002
Somewhat Damaged
By Sir Eval Sweetwater
Anthology One
Chapter One
The Emissary
Canto Two
A Force of Darkness
September 1997
Alexander Lebed, Russia's former chief of national security, stressed his assertion that Russia may have 'lost' up to 100 one-kiloton 'suitcase-sized' nuclear bombs. During a conference in Tokyo on the 22nd of September, Lebed said that despite unequivocal denials of his claim by the authorities, "the problem still exists." He repeated his view of the gravity of the situation: "These are ideal weapons to conduct nuclear terrorism... We must seriously look for them or else humankind cannot rest in peace."
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April 16th, 2002
Dalandzadgad Air Space, Mongolia (2:23 am)
The Hyperion III blended-wing aircraft had only one purpose. It was created for one purpose only. The vehicle was a high-altitude payload insertion ship, better known as a dropship; a sole machine was carried on board. A killing machine at that, a machine without ethics, and machine without a soul, a machine built to keep the peace by any means necessary. Any means necessary.
The Hyperion III reached its target, Dalandzadgad, Mongolia 60,000 feet above. It jerked east deeper into the desert valley to avoid the city, descending slightly. It was still dark out; the sun had not reached this side of the planet yet, even at such altitudes.
Inside its cargo hold, the 'emissary' sat, the Machine, as some would come to call him, his body was fully covered in a bulky black pressure suit, the outfit was not unlike those wore by the U2 pilots back in the days of the Cold War, only his suit was leaner and took the shape of his body, which was well-toned. His face was covered by a menacing-looking breathing apparatus, from which he took deep, slow breaths. His eyes were covered by the mask's dark visor.
He was strapped tight to the structure of the aircraft, facing back, to prevent movement during flight. The cargo hold was dark, cold, and cramp. Only a low-burning red bulb brought enough light into the cargo hold for a normal human to barely see. He sat there staring at the light, calm and relax.
Then, the craft shifted sharply to one side, exerting massive g-forces to occupant, who responded by placing his left leg farther left to counter-balance the force. The red light that flickered from the floor of the cargo hold became yellowish. And after the aircraft regained a straight course the emissary released the safety straps that held him in place and crouched forward towards the center of the cargo hold, the parachute and supplies on his back restricted his movement. He faces forward placing both hands on the two handles jutting out from the floor of the cargo hold and waited, watching the yellowish light flicker.
The doors to the cargo hold were oddly built. They rolled on tracks that moved the doors from their cargo hold position to the plane's wings. It was a smooth process since the wings were technically part of the blended-wing's fuselage. They opened from the top exposing the contents in the cargo hold to the rushing air. This was due to the way the craft was designed. In part, the low profile was calculated to reduce air drag since the crafts bulkiness made the plane inheritably 'aerodynamically challenged'. But mainly it was to minimize turbulence during supersonic insertions because the disturbance on the experimental vehicle's structure could spell trouble for the craft's integrity. It was an experimental aircraft with very little practical use but it possessed a uniqueness that was irreplaceable in the IG's inventory.
The flickering yellow light turned solid, he grasped the handles with all his strength as the doors of the cargo hold opened letting a sudden gust of wind channeled through, the wind was strong enough to push him out of the aircraft but he held on watching the light flickering. And then, it turned green.
He let go of the handles, the wind pulled him out of the cargo hold at incredible speed separating him from the craft. He extended his hands as he descended downward at a high rate, 60,000 feet from the surface of the Earth. He stretched his whole body, the black pressure suit fluttered violently as he fell towards earth.
50,000 feet
40,000 feet
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Mayberry and Commander Newman entered a room much like any other room in the 'Fortress", but this room held something quite unique.
"Wha? What is that!" Mayberry shouted. He now saw the very nature of Project HEAD and it was…"human?"
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30,000 feet
25,000 feet
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"Human? No, Chief Analyst, this thing is not human— it's the fruits of our labor, millions of man hours and hundreds of billions of capital." Commander Newman paused as he looked towards the machine, "He is more than human."
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20,000 feet
10,000 feet
5,000 feet
1,000 feet
600 feet
He deployed his ram-air canopy parachute. The parachute quickly slowed him down as he descended down towards the desert valley.
Only a few feet from the ground, he released his parachute—freefalling towards the ground below. His big black boots slammed the face of the rocky outcropping. The gravity forced is body to crouch to absorb the impact. He stayed in this position for a moment, absorbing his surroundings; making sure his insertion was not compromised. It wasn't; not a soul within five miles. He stood up from his crouching position. The force of the landing ripped a large hole in his pressure suit causing the suit to deflate. He did not suffer any injuries from the fall, after all, he was not a human. He was a capable machine.
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"D-001. That is the machine's name." The Commander faced Mayberry, "And you're this machine's active operator."
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D-001 took off his supplies and torn black pressure suit, he did not take his devilish-looking mask off, though. He wore underneath the suit a white shirt and desert-fatigue pants. He need not advance equipment—what for? He was the equipment!
He opened his supply pack and pulled out a brown cloak, made presumably out of durable leather, and covered himself with it. The long-sleeved cloak completely hid his body from sight. He undid the strap on the back of his mask and took it off and covered his head with cloak's hood.
He looked around his environment. It was still dark but he could see, none the less; he landed in an ancient dry river basin. To the south: China, and opposite to that: Dalandzadgad. Without wait, he followed the basin north to his destination.
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"And so it begins, CA Mayberry." Mused Commander Newman, "Remember, you're not in control, you're only monitoring and troubleshooting."
"Got'cha!" There was nothing for Mayberry to do but to watch over the monitors scattered over the main control terminal. He made sure the 'Machine' was running smoothly and corrected any abnormalities as they presented themselves. He wasn't very nervous, hell, he was getting the five star treatment! The IG provided him a very, very plush, leather-trimmed computer chair and a made-to-order light-weight wireless hydrogen-wafer fusion-powered keyboard with an awesome state-of-the-art optical-laser mouse connected to an ultra-fast supercomputer (678.72 teraflops, by the way), oh, and did I mention the, not one, not two, but three 32" plasma display monitors? And they all rest on a large, sturdy, aluminum computer desk – and an office to go with it.
"Mission Command is inside the Coverthound so do not concern yourself with the mission at hand. Also, make sure you keep an eye on his EHD sensor and RER Receptacle Module; if they heat up above 70 degrees Celsius the mission will be terminated. Understand?" Commander Newman spoke as he retreated to the back of the room where he seated himself on a short metal chair near a table where he began to work on other material.
"Roger that!" Mayberry said cheerfully. He continued monitoring D-001's sensors. He scanned through the three monitors—such vast amounts of information passed through them, and at such rates! Faster than even the monitors' fresh rate, Mayberry exaggerated. Of course, there is no possible way for one man to view every piece of data that came up on the monitors. But that was no problem; he did not need to review everything. All data followed certain parameters; as long as the information stays within the boundaries of the parameters Mayberry had nothing to worry about. Then again, it's never that easy. He notices a slight change in the EHD sensor, a spike in energy consumption, the data was highlighted in yellow, so it stayed within, at least, the edge of its parameter, nothing to worry about as of yet.
What did EHD mean anyways? How was he supposed to be this 'analyst' if he didn't even know this damn material! "Commander, Sir?"
"What is it CA Mayberry?" Commander Newman had taken a seat near the back in a small nook in the corner, busied by paperwork spread on top of an aluminum coffee table. The middle-aged man glanced back at the control station where Mayberry was seated.
"Commander, I know my job concerns on-a-need-to-know-basis information but how am I suppose to work efficiently as a 'chief analyst', especially as a 'Chief Analyst of Special Projects' if the information I work with is censored?" He turned his head toward the Commander. "Kind of defeats the point of being an information analyst."
The Commander glanced back to his paperwork and began typing up some classified document on his laptop, unconcerned with Mayberry's question. Mayberry gave up as fast as he started, if the information he wanted was so wrapped in secrecy that even a chief analyst need not know, then too bad, S.O.L.
And then the Commander spoke: "You don't need to know much, we don't need you to know much, its better if you know nothing, but then, you do need to know some things, right?"
"That is why I'm here, isn't?"
Commander lifted his head slightly and eyed Mayberry; the Commander was a little annoyed.
"You are here to follow your superiors' orders, nothing more and most definitely nothing less. We only need you for your skills with a computer."
The Commander went back to his work laid in front of him on the desk. He was starting to regret having put Mayberry in the position he was in. But, whether or not Mayberry would suffice him as his subordinate CA mattered not, the fact of the matter was that Mayberry was his only real choice. Those who were qualified enough to fulfill the position of CA were no longer available or – 'relocated'. And to make the commander's situation worse, hordes of Project HEAD workers were soon leaving the project to fill in gasps in the organization created by the massive restructuring of the Internal Government. Not to mention, "The Master CA for Project HEAD will soon be – 'reallocated' to a different project. If you prove yourself competent enough to manage the workings of the NS-5 Unlimited OS and software package then, we'll see, maybe you could be Project HEAD's Master CA." Most all of the key Project HEAD team member will be leaving the project, too. "You'll have all the information you want, within limits of course."
The Internal Government was in a state of passive defense and rapid modernization; the institution was always on its toes, watchful and alert. No longer was the IG the 'defender of American democracy and interests abroad' but from now on the IG will be everyone's last hope. And that hope was threatened, seriously threatened. It was clear to all of the IG's leadership, act now and possibly obtain even the tiniest sliver of a chance at victory or not act at all and submit and be absorb, or worse, annihilated. What ever destiny awaited the United State, the Internal Government would be at the center of it.
The one thing the IG lacked that its enemies had was man power, and with it size and wealth. The IG had the technology, experimental, yes, but none the less, valuable. The IG, also, has some of the greatest minds ever born and those geniuses who refused to join the IG were subsequently labeled "risk factors" and were disposed off immediately. Or, closely watched, those who proved beneficial to the advancement of civilian technologies were left mostly alone. And if one of these few intellectuals exceeds expectations, than the IG would step in and regulate the flow of ideas and technologies, and possibly hurting those who could not be contained. Brutal, yes, but vital, it is the way the IG has survived for so long.
Unfortunately, such vast freedoms were being challenged and as every hour past the enemy grew closer to the destruction of America and the Internal Government. 'Desperate' as the Internal Government's Secretary of Internal Affairs coined it, "was a softer word to use in place of hopeless." The United States and the Internal Government's sovereignty was being tested beyond the limits of elasticity and could quickly break.
And it was this reality that was the main reason for the Internal Government's realignment and Newman's troubles. Whatever happens, one thing is certain, the following years will not be peaceful.
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April 16th, 2002
Dalandzadgad Air Space, Mongolia (3:03 am)
Darkness covered the city of Dalandzadgad in an eerie, cold silence. Not a significant soul outside their homes, too early for the stores to open. It was a prefect time for someone to slip in unnoticed. Dalandzadgad is not, what you call, a respectable city, trash laid everywhere and dust covered everything, and to make matters worse, the city's bums made it impossible for anyone to drive around at night without running over someone, whether a hobo or another vagabond. And the corrupt officials didn't help at all, if fact, they make it a lot worse, and this is why D-001 was sent here, to clean out the system. Of course, you should not praise the IG for this noble act, they would have never consider such an operation if it were not for selfish reasons. Officials in Dalandzadgad went too far, and the IG would have to teach them lesson: Never under any circumstances should anyone interfere with the Internal Government of the United States of America. Ever.
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April 16th, 2002
Four-hundred feet under the Bay of Bengal (3:15 am)
Mission Command inside the Coverthound (Satellite Transmission)
"Alright, listen D-001, this is the Mission Coordinator. We can provide you with very little support. Unfortunately, this is a 'rush job' so we were not able to obtain any Russian handguns, so you're stuck with an ASP pistol with only two clips, which is more than enough if you aim for the head. Do not leave any American materiel behind; the ammo is Russian so there is no need to recover the casings."
"The Hyperion III has released the two armed UAV's; they will commence circling the city. One of the UAV's can paradrop a Chinese AK-47 if need arises."
"Okay, you're about 2 miles from the point of interest; remember, all we know is that there are two Russians, three Al Qaeda operatives, and several Dalandzadgad policemen. You only have 16 rounds so use them well, kill everyone and recover the nuclear device. Make sure you destroy the evidence with the FIIED. Over"
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January 5th, 2031
San Diego, California, US, Earth
Excerpt from Nuclear Recovery Officer Pat C. Johnson's voice recording. Submitted January 5th, 2031 (Historical Records).
"You would think, the Russians, with all their expertise in espionage and camouflage coupled with rigorous training would be a lot more precautious about their presence. But one sweep from a spy satellite and we had them. Those son-of-bitches had six police guarding their hideout. Big fucking mistake. Anyways, it should go on the record that the two Russians, Viktor Kamenev and Mikhail Alekperov, were forced to resign from the KGB in 1987 for mental 'instability'. My guess, too much exposure to Xaema, a toxic metallic compound used by the KGB in there equipment.
Kamenev, or as we call him, 'Atomic Viktor', was KBG's Chief Nuclear Advisor; he was the person in charge of researching and implementing new ways of utilizing nuclear material. In fact, Atomic Viktor was the CNA whose research team created the one-kiloton non-ballistic nuclear portmanteau device, back in 1964. It was part of the Soviets 'Total Chaos' strategy against the US. Never worked out, but the Soviets were able to build about 500 suitcases. They disarmed about 350 of them a year after the secret signing of the Chaos Armament Non-Proliferation Treaty (CANT I & II; 1979, 1983) under the SALT treaties. Under CANT II the Soviets destroyed 350 suitcase nukes while the US reduced the number of Meteoroid III CGNRS (Crater Generating Non-Nuclear Reentry Shell)- loaded satellites. They kept 150 suitcases as a safety precaution; somehow they figured if the US ever invaded the USSR and had knocked out all of Russia's ballistic capabilities that blowing up all major Russia cities would be their non-surrender. Well, the Russians had in 2002 only 47 of the original 150 suitcases, scratch three off, Kamenev's research team accidentally detonated one inside their Siberia compound in 1986 destroying two other suitcases along with the entire facility. Boy, what a mess, satellite images showed one giant-ass crater where the facility had been. It was one of the factors that led to his resignation, one-thousand dead or dying and one-million acres of poisoned Siberian land.
That left 100 suitcase nukes unaccounted for. What happened to them? Well, that's a different 'conspiracy'. But the IG knew Kamenev and Alekperov were involved in the garb. Unfortunately, it was in the mid-80s so we didn't have a team to track those weapons. They simply disappeared, vanished from the Russian arsenal with not a single person accountable for the grand larceny. Of course, that did not stop the Soviets from 'cleaning the system' and sending many to the gulags in the process. It was not until 1990 that the IG formed the NARA (Nuclear Arsenal Recovery Agency) under the Nuclear Materials Accountability Act Commission. NARA was responsible for acquiring all weapons-grade nuclear material from all 'unfriendly forces' (including mother nature) through the use of espionage, research, and force. By 2000, IG NARA was able to recover: ten broken arrows, fourteen tons of weapons-grade uranium, eighteen IRBMs, two ICBMs, twenty dismantled cores, four tons of radioactive waste, and 23 of the original 100 missing suitcases, two which were converted into rocket-propelled missiles. It would be in Operation Morning Star in Mongolia that NARA would acquire the 24th.
Alekperov, the 'Bastard', is a strange one. We don't really know who he is; some within the intelligence community believe Alekperov was the Soviet's very own D-001. Of course, the Bastard was Soviet designed, extremely primitive compared to the American counterpart; it was 2002, Alekperov had been in operation since 1985 and has since become quite damaged. While in a mission in Kazakhstan back in 1992 one of our snipers managed to severely mangle the Bastard's right arm and foot. But don't underestimate Alekperov, he has killed five of our agents already, including the famous Ghoststalker himself.
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It was a pop. So indistinguishable it could have been mistake for one of the many mysteries of the city. But, then—Pop. Pop. And with three rounds the three policemen guarding the hideout's front fell. They were lucky he was such a good shot. They never knew what hit them. The first shot went straight through one of the officer's temple obliterating his skull cavity. The other two shots followed quickly, before the other two policemen even realized the situation they were eliminated in the same fashion.
Gunfire alarmed the other guards protecting the back. And one by one, as they emerged from the sides of the house they too felt the glory of precious weaponry. Pop. Pop. Pop. All headshot. All done in the dark – with a crude pistol in a matter of ten seconds.
He was not finished. In the confines of a minute, he waltz right into the house and finished his first clip and emptied half of his second clip into the sleeping Al-Qaeda and Mongolian police officers. And with the four rounds he had left he 'woke' Kamenev. Kamenev was a notorious deep sleeper, especially if the evening prior involved a glass or two of vodka. Up on the second floor, with only his immense strength of his left arm, he grabbed the copper doorknob and broke the locked by simply turning it in a quick but definite jerk. The IG will not lose their objective this time; there was no more barriers, no more doors, no more hesitation. With a pop the first round shattered Kamenev left tibia and the second round ricocheted of the right tibia and had lodged itself into the right fibula – in other words, he won't be moving around too much. The third round—well, let's just say: if he had live he would have been considered -- useless.
"Ahhhhh! What have you done?" Kamenev yelled as he leaped up from his bed only to discover his legs failed under his own weight. He hit the ground hard as his legs snapped; bone punctured through the skin. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"Viktor Kamenev. No need to worry. All that exposure to radiation should have left you impotent. And you won't be needing your legs, too." This was a message relayed from Commander Newman through the Machine. Newman had known Atomic Viktor from the Puppet War, back when he was an active agent. The day Atomic Viktor shot Newman through the leg was the day Newman retired. But before he was evacuated to safety, Newman promised Viktor one thing: "Before I'm dead I'm gonna shove your balls so up your ass you'll have to send an entire team of KGB agent up your rectum to recover what's left of them, Fucker!" Well, close enough.
"You fucking American pig! Guards!" Atomic Viktor sat in a pool of blood as he lay against one of the walls next to his bloodied bed. It was dark, the lights were off. He could not see his attacker. "Guards! Where are my fucking guards?"
D-001 walked closer to Atomic Viktor. His big, black boots took short but intimidating steps. Viktor could see the moonshined outline of his attacker's body as it passed the only window in the room. Viktor was starting to sweat and he was breathing heavily, the adrenaline had eased the pain enough for him to pull himself onto his bed. D-001 reached down to his right boot where he cleaned off a clot of gooey substance with his hand and pulled it up to his darkness-hidden face. "I found a piece of one of your guards. Will this be adequate?"
"Who are you! CIA?"
"Please, the CIA couldn't investigate there way out of a paper bag. Now, I'm the one doing the questioning, Atomic Viktor."
"You're from the IG aren't you? You fucking spy I'll never give you information, ever!"
"Where are the remaining suitcases?"
"Fuck you! You can't fucking hurt me with that fucking American gun!" Motioning at D-001's hand, Viktor was somewhat right, it did look pathetic, especially in this lighting, hell, D-001's hand was even bigger than the gun. But, Commander Newman made sure the last shot fired would be 'special'.
"Well, I tried." D-001 extended his pistol and blew Atomic Viktor's brains out. Brain remnants plastered all over the back wall. Viktor's body slouched sideways, from his jaw down. "Prototype 9 millimeter explosive round."
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"I don't see Alekperov anywhere."
"Roger, D-001, he must have expected us then." Mission Coordinator turned his head towards the person standing next to him, Sergeant Major Rei. He was a person of disputable importance, of alluring mystery; truly, out of this "world". And yet, he was here. He was about "6'2"; straight-backed and experienced, as one in his position should be. His sapphire eyes moved mechanically, reflexively over the monitors absorbing the real-time feeds. He looked younger than most of the servicemen onboard, he was, maybe 35. Who knows? He was blond so any gray hairs would be easily looked over.
"Have your staff on high alert. Order HP Control not to lose D-001's operational command no matter what the cost; he is still very unstable. Coordinator, have those UAV teams on patrol and monitor mode around the point of interest."
"Got it! UAV group A and UAV group B encircle the structure, stay out of small arms range. K.C., I'm sending over a message to HP Control, coded and relay it for me."
Who was he? Sergeant Major Rei? Out of the twenty years he had been here he had never met this man and yet, he's here. Almost out of thin air, this blond, intelligent person starts acting as an IG SP Sergeant Major. He did not seem like them, he does not seem to hold the same beliefs as them or the same goals. And yet, he's here. The IG, it's changing, everything is. Here he was an ignorant mission coordinator doing the same thing he's been trained to do for the past twenty years. It seemed he's world has not changed and yet, he's here. So what does this mean?
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"Mission Control, this is PH Control, everything is nominal you have nothing to worry about." Mayberry spoke over the communications. He turned to Newman who was now monitoring the situation closely over his laptop. "Well, I hope you have more workers Commander Newman. I'm seeing over 900,000 irregularities. There are over 660,000 software errors and about 3,000 serious errors. Jeez, you would think Microsofty designed it!"
"Fix what you can. The NS-5 itself should fix most of the anomalies."
"Are you sure?" Mayberry scanned through the many monitors, trying to fix what he could. "JJS-1444 program…Rebooting!"
"Mayberry, Aimee's assisting the NS-5; try concentrating on only the serious system errors."
"Got it!" Working with at a lightening fast pace, Mayberry tracked and rebooted every program his fingers could type off. Easy work until, "Jeez, look at this, his metabolism just spiked!" His eyes widened as he brought out the results. "He's burning calories at the rate of 2451.1 calories an hour! Man, body temp sensor warning light just came on! NS-5's reporting a serious glitch in the main directory. It's the RER converter module! It's gone berserk!"
"Jeez!" Mayberry gasped, "It may take me a while to fix, Commander."
Commander Newman took a stance next to Mayberry. "Fix it, now!"
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D-001 searched the entire house for the supposed suitcase nuke. He finally found the mini-nuke hidden cleverly on top of a coffee table; and there was nothing else of interest inside the house. D-001 should know, the IGSP built him with the ability to view his surroundings in several modes. He had no use for imaging device since his eyes were built to accommodate an assortment of visual settings. Slightly near the pupil on the iris are shallow, circular impressions by which D-001 can see in infrared, some of these impressions are meant for low light amplification, others – classified, but rumors has it D-001 has the ability to sense the movement of particle waves: sound waves. Some other views are achieved also but they're yet to be declassified by the Internal Government's Special Projects bureau.
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"This isn't good!" Mayberry shouted, "It won't be long before we lose D-001!"
"Damn!" It was all the Commander could say.
"EHD sensor nearing 70 degrees Celsius!"
"Reboot the Dahlz Program!"
"Are you sure? That controls everything!"
"Do as I say!"
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D-001 was collecting the bodies of the dead policemen from the outside. What was it, six bodies? Good thing people here mind there own business. With out much effort he lifted the body of this one, fat cop up to arms length and began to the house; the caved in face of the officer left a trail of blood on the ground. The Machine reached the small, three-step stair of the front entrance path when underneath him, all of a sudden, he felt tiny needles pricking his feet and then his arms. He became nauseated, dehydrated; his sensitivity to the world had become dulled. His vision darkened and he grew deaf; he could not feel the dead body he was carrying or the ground underneath him. He could not tell if he dropped the fat man or if he was still standing. His breathing stopped, so too his heart. There was nothing—like purgatory; absolute void.
Everything was gone.
But as his mind and all its processes faded, as by miracle, a tiny fraction of his eyesight was regained. All he could see were tiny, blurry, white dots floating in the deep, cool reaches of the void which was left of his environment. Bonding, collecting, forming into a single larger, blurry, white dot. Slowly it appeared as if the white dot was morphing into something familiar. The image wasn't so blurry anymore. It appeared as though the image of a female he wasn't too sure he met materialized. A woman or were there two? D-001 could not tell. But it seemed to be calling him. "My child." In the void the voice became pronounce, "Listen." One of the women turn her head to her side were D-001 could see a blue-haired girl staring into the infinite distance. "She will free you." The blue haired girl turned her sight towards D-001. "When the time comes, child." A small smile accumulated on her face, "When the time comes." He's 'vision' focused on the unique eyes of that girl, every ripple on her irises, very variation and pattern of hue pigment burned on to his mind. Those eyes—all he could do was stare at her eyes; even when the vision began to fade—those eyes remained.
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"Program restarted, Commander!"
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D-001 awoke, suddenly, finding his face smeared in brain juice and blood, tiny fragments of skull poked his skin was he tried to remove the bio-soup from his face. He got up from upon the fat corpse and stood for a moment regaining his senses. After awhile he garbed the body he dropped and threw it through the flimsy door and into the building. He went back for another body, this time it was a malnourished boy. He picked that body up and as he was about to entire the building he looked up into the sky—wondering if those lights up there would form into something. But nothing came.
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Within the bright flash the house was consumed by the extreme temperature. Everything inside the house was obliterated. The FIIED device had worked! Instantaneously, the thermal device burst into a flash of absolutely intense heat. Feeding off the oxygen so quickly it created a vacuum of pressure so promptly re-pressurized that it collapsed the exoskeletons of the building.
Satisfied with the work, the Machine collected his tools and the nuke, and covered himself with the cloak he brought with him and headed out of town. Of course, by this time, some one must have called the cops, for a couple Al-Quada jihaders showed up packed on top of a beat-up truck. Mission Control had already intercepted the call and had flown a UAV towards D-001. The UAV buzzed down like the Stukas of half a century ago and unloaded the Chinese AK-47, the Type 81, down towards its target. D-001 catches it in mid-air, cocks it and switches the safety off and unloads the magazine at the truck. The truck comes riddled with bullet holes as it swerves off the road crashing into a house.
Once done reloading, D-001 is ordered to steal a car and get out. He did what he was told. Heavy-footed and excited D-001 pushes his stolen, rusty Mercedes V8 engine to a constant 120 miles an hour. Holes and bums in the road rattled the nonexistent suspension of the vehicle stupid. Once out of the city, the old Mercedes passed several rushing cars heading towards Dalandzadgad. Most all of them did a complete U-turn upon seeing the Mercedes; except for one which wasn't so lucky.
Down this desert road, the sun was rising, welcoming the earth with its warmth. The sky, a spectrum of colors: from the west, a bleak blackness, and the farther east: blue, then light blue, orange, and yellow toward Dalandzadgad where the sun's rays enveloped the city and all that laid east.
They where mafia cars that where catching up to the Mercedes. D-001 pointed the assault rifle in back of him and used the mirror to aim, he wasted his final clip on the lead car, destroying the front-left side of the car and popping the driver's side wheel sending the 159 mile an hour car into a mad flight and to a complete spin in the air; D-001 could see a tiny spec of body had ejected out of the vehicle as the car came rushing down disappearing into the desert's sands. The constant gunfire was homing down on the discolored Mercedes. The now lead car had steadied itself to where a goon with a RPG had pop out of the sunroof and aimed that RPG at the ever closer Mercedes. The Mafioso watched and waited for the best time to launch the grenade at the black Mercedes. The cars were coming into a turn where the goon had a broad-side view of the car. Here was his chance and he took it! Pressed the trigger and—the car burst into piece by the cannon fire of one of the UAVs. What was left of the car had dashed out of the curved road into some bushes. That old Mercedes had a close call but the UAVs were finally within firing distance. One of the UAV aimed at the last Mafia car and fired its single forty-pound rocket. The rocket screeched down at the car slamming the asphalt in back of it. The force sent the car flipping butt first onto a large rock where it burst into flames.
And the Mercedes kept heading west at a hundred and forty-something miles an hour. Somewhere in the desert was his flight out of there.
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Masaki Residence, Okayama, Japan
The evening had been very uneventful at the Masaki residence. Too routine. Sasami was making diner while the rest of the females of the family lazily stretched themselves on the sofas in the living room. Ayeka, the only one still awake flipped through the channels on the new HD TV that replaced the TV she broke 'accidentally'; Tenchi's father had gotten several international channels, too (248 channels to be exact). Ayeka should know, half her day was spent in front of the warm glow of the TV. "Forty-eight romance and drama channels", Ayeka remembered what Nobuyuki said,"18 news stations, 24 learning channels, 53 comedy, general entertainment, and music channels, 88 channels from this place called America, and—seventeen channel you probably don't want Sasami to see." So after flipping through 100 channels Ayeka had landed on WNN (World News Network) International: "News on the hour, every hour, from everywhere."
"…Gang violence has rocked the city of Dalandzadgad this morning…sources say the violent confrontations between rival gangs and police started when a routine drug raid on a meth lab went haywire when someone set the explosive chemicals inside the house on fire. Eight Dalandzadgad officers are confirmed dead…violence also spread just outside the city; believed to be the work of the Russian mafia…"
Ayeka yawned was she flipped the channels for something more interesting. And, wouldn't you know it! There was! "Sasami! Good Eats is on!"
"I'm coming, Ayeka, let me just get my pen and notebook! He's making cheesecake this time, right!"
"Mmm-hmm!"
Part Two of Canto Two of Chapter One
March 15th, 2002
The automatic sliding doors to the PH-Lab opened as Mayberry entered. He has not been sleeping well lately, something about monitoring a faux-human killing machine just seems to bother him too much for rest, he had encountered weird stuff, but this is just too weird. He is now the operator of the most advanced US weapon ever created—well, at least that's what he believed. Whether he wanted to or not. Why me! True, why him, after all, this is the most advanced weapon on earth, the pinnacle of human technology, the key project of the IG SP, isn't? Wouldn't a person more acquainted with D-001 and Project HEAD be better suited for this position? Or have they gone and liquated them, too.
"PH-Lab" is the nickname of one of Project HEAD's research facilities that houses D-001. Like the other facilities inside the "Frozen Fortress" PH-Lab was clean and high tech. The walls were painted white with aluminum trimmings and wide aluminum kick-guards. Ventilation openings marked every hall and room in this facility; they were, after all, over seventy miles underground. "Space Age" materials were built into everything around here, advance "polyesters" and "plastics" and "foams" but not just any foam, no, you fool! NASA synthetic! Nonflammable! Indestructible! Nano-structured! "Space Foam!" and it comes in white and dirty yellow! The floors and roofs tiles are made also of aluminum. It reminded Mayberry of that museum in Madrid, Spain. That and coke cans. The aluminum.
Mayberry walked through the main hall to the last sliding doors where that "machine" was kept. Mayberry was carrying a disc of some sort, in a black DVD case that read: "NorTec E-motion Emulator Module Activation Program for the Custom 4500 XL 777 Z-Tec PAI-1000 Progressive Artificial Intelligence CPU…Not Compatible with Windows." He was supposed to upload this program into the machine, why? No one told him, they are still censoring most of the contents around him. And even after he became the darn Master Chief Analyst of Special Projects for Project HEAD!
He saw D-001 on the cold metal (presumably aluminum) medical table sitting straight up and stolid. He was wearing a pair of grey-dyed cotton shorts that barely went below his knees and matching shirt. He was tall, much taller than Mayberry expected, according to the medical records subject D-001 was 188 centimeters tall, about 7'2, and growing, he was expected to reach 7'5 in a few years. He was also very muscular, especially in the legs, it was lean muscle not the kind weight-lifters amass but he had more of a boxer's physique. D-001 appeared pale, Caucasian, with short jet-black hair and equally dark eyes, he didn't seem Anglo-Saxon to Mayberry he looked more like a – Spaniard, in a good way. His face was sculptured by the muscles in his face and the youthful skin stretched over it with no noticeable facial scarring. But, the thing that interested Mayberry most about D-001 was how young he looked, a teenager, maybe.
"Master CA Mayberry, my body is dehydrated I require liquids to function at normal capacity." D-001 spoke from the medical table.
"Oh right, sure, sure, I'll bring you some Cheerwine in a while if you like." Mayberry walked towards a computer desk on the right wall, an "aluminum" computer desk, and clicked on the computer mouse and inserted the black disc into the drive and began to upload the program into D's main CPU; he also brought up D-001's current body diagnostics, "Tell me, D-001, do you have an age?" Mayberry said out of curiosity, turning his head towards D with a raised eyebrow.
D answered stolidly, "Your question is too vague, Master CA Mayberry, could you be speaking about the age of the body I'm operating or the date my Progressive Artificial Intelligence Operating System began functioning at self-conscience levels?" His voice was deep and emotionless, no real sign of a human underneath it all.
Mayberry walked towards the entrance of the door and laid his back on a metal support beam (aluminum, everything was aluminum, "Space Age" after all) and folded his arms across his chest, "Tell me both – tell me when you first 'existed'."
"The age of the body I am operating is over fourteen years. Born around 2:30 PM on April 23rd 1988. No further details are available. Date of initial Z-Tec PAI-1000 Progressive Artificial Intelligence Operating System testing: December 3rd of 1996. Full incorporation of OS system: December 9th 2000. Will that be all?" D-001 finished.
"Fourteen, are you a superannuated machine from the Puppet Wars?" Mayberry adjusted his glasses.
"Negative," D affirmed, "I became fully functional in late 2000. This body you see in front of you belonged to a now deceased human."
"A deceased human?" Mayberry unfolded his arms and lurched forward, he studied D-001's body carefully. "You inhabited a dead boy?"
"Negative, the vessel was still alive during the initial operation." He said almost robotically.
So, this is why he looks human. What sort of creations has the IG been up to?
"Who was this boy?" Mayberry said. If the IG wasn't going to give him any non-censured information then their creation could prove satisfactory.
"That is classified; higher clearance is needed to access those files."
"Files?" Damn, I guess this isn't doing to be easy.
"Yes, I'm connected to the facilities database; anything you want to know can be accessed through me, with clearance. Master CA."
Mayberry refolded his arms and walked in a circle around D-001, though not particularly looking at D-001. Lost in thought, he wanted to see how much information he could squeeze off him. He couldn't help it; curiosity was a habit he could not shake off. "Then tell me, what is Project HEAD?"
"Project Human Enhancement and Development is an Internal Government's Special Projects program designed to give the IG and the United States an edge over its enemies in both combat and intelligence. During the Puppet Wars, 1961 to 1989, Special Projects formed a team of decorated scientists in order to create an army of highly-trained super soldiers to combat the Soviet Union's expansionism, called Project 273, it failed to reach its goals and was subsequently dissolved by 1987. Fortunately, the IG SP gained valuable research information from Project 273 that was later applied to Project HEAD. Project HEAD was assembled in January of 1992 in accordance with SKIA to produce a batch of prefect soldiers."
"SKIA?" He heard of SKIA before, but where? Somewhere in the endless paperwork he had retyped?
"All files on SKIA are classified." D-001 said.
"Very well, continue." Mayberry resumed walking.
D-001 began where he left off, there was a slight hint that what D-001 has saying had been scripted previously. Mayberry could tell those words where not his but someone else's. D-001 was intelligent but he lacked interaction between people that would make him use words like 'fortunately'. Was he regurgitating his master's words, was this 'thing' really a 'thing'. Mayberry guessed—there is no other possibility. "Unfortunately, Project HEAD failed to provide any living subject by early 1995, the project was sidelined until early 1996 when the IG allocated one-hundred billion US dollars and several veteran scientists into the project."
"Why so?" Mayberry spoke, he became more curious, 1996 was a big year for strange stuff in the Internal Government, and lots of paperwork. Something happened in 1996 that caused the massive restructuring of the IG that was still going on today. "Why did the IG spend so many resources in 1996 for a project that had not produced any results?"
"No files of significance to your question of Project HEAD in 1996 exist. All records have been restricted or deleted due to protocol 147."
"Then, what about 1997?"
"All records of significance to your question have been restricted or deleted due to protocol 147."
Mayberry was getting annoyed. He was starting to understand his limits; but, he wanted to delve deeper. He faced D-001 and spoke. "Is that so, then where do you come in?"
"In August of 1996. I was the first successful prototype. All further records have been restricted or delete…"
"First successful prototype?" Mayberry cutoff D-001 and walked closer to him, Mayberry extended his face close to D-001's.
"Yes." D-001 said in response to Mayberry's aggressive posture.
"You mean there's more!" I guess they are serious about creating the soldiers of tomorrow.
D-001 did not respond. He no longer concentrated his eyes on Mayberry, something was boiling inside of him and Mayberry could not tell what it was. He face stiffed up a bit and a worrisome frown appeared on D-001's face. Are these – emotion? Mayberry thought.
"Well?" Mayberry said, he wanted learn more about the extent of Project HEAD.
"Merle…" D-001 said so quietly Mayberry could hardly hear him. He almost choked say it; the "emotions" were affecting him; he could only assume.
"Merle?" Mayberry noticed that D-001 was looking differently, D-001 was not looking at Mayberry anymore, he could almost detect something like human inside that robot, but D-001 is a machine! Impossible! Faux emotions, imitations. That program I gave him. Mayberry couldn't believe that a machine, even as advanced as D-001, can act human, it didn't make sense, D-001's brain was a computer after all and computers can't have emotion. Emotions are illogical and based on the randomness of brain activity and chemical stimulus but computers are based on logical, precise calculations. There could be no such things as an emotional computer. Was the program he gave D-001 acting up. A glitch? Or is "Merle" a stimuli—trigger word? But, what for? Or did this Merle exist? Codename?
"Tell me," Mayberry spoke, "what is the Internal Government's main mission?"
D-001 must have suppressed his faux-emotion for he quickly responded: "To protect what is most valuable, at any cost."
"Most valuable?" Mayberry was prepared to ask more questions but they had company. The sliding doors opened and a young female Mayberry had not seen before came in.
She was beautiful, no doubt about it. There was nothing synthetic about her beauty, she seemed fragile almost vulnerable. She had long blond hair and blue eyes. Tall for a woman, about 5'9 and she was somewhat shapely but she was no adult. Mayberry could tell she was also young like D-001, in fact, the strangest thing about the IG was that its member where either too young or too old, very few middle-age men, like Commander Newman or young adults like Mayberry, himself. Mayberry couldn't figure out why this was so. But it didn't really matter to him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, were you in the middle of something?" She said in a polite feminine voice facing Mayberry.
"Oh, no, not really. May I ask who you are?" Folding his arms again he stood in a reserved posture. He did not trust beautiful women. All beautiful women were asses to him, well, at least in high school.
"I'm Agent G from SKIA, and you." She smiled.
"Master Chief Analyst of Special Projects Roger Mayberry from Project HEAD. Now, how may I help you?" Stolid and commanding, at least pretending.
"I would like to speak to my friend over there, please." Pointing at D-001.
"Do you have clearance, Miss – Agent G?" There was something about the people of the Internal Government, none of them ever wanted give their real names. It's probably because the IG is, after all, a secret organization and many people have taken basic espionage training and know not to give too much personal information to anyone, not even to each other. But still, it annoys him.
"Well actually, yes I do, from Harvey Taylor. So, would you please let me speak to him?" She said putting her best sad puppy face.
Masked creatures, could Mayberry trust such animals? Shiftless dolls constantly putting on masks, ones that fit their needs to gain their fill. Were they really that bad? Or was his paranoia finally closing the final door in his psychological framework?
Mayberry nodded, "Go ahead."
"Thank you." G walked towards D-001 and turned her head back, "Oh, can we have some privacy, Mister Mayberry."
Agent G stood some distance from D-001, she was a bit nervous but mostly excited. She was dressed cleanly: a long-sleeved velvet "curve-hugging" blouse with "expensive" blue denim jeans and no jewelry, none of that uniform attire the IG required all its basic workers to wear. She wore some makeup, definitely some red lipstick. It seemed as she was trying too hard not to look like she has trying too hard. Women. 'My, my, what strange tricks have befallen D-001?' Mayberry wondered. 'Be careful and don't let them get to you. Women are a tempest of troubles. If you're not careful. Machine. They will change you.'
"Oh, yeah, I'm sorry, please accuse me." Mayberry walked out of the PH-Lab. Mayberry wanted to know more about Project HEAD but for now, it was better not to ask too many questions, after all, knowledge is a dangerous thing in the Internal Government. But, what did D-001 mean by "to protect what is most valuable?" As far as Mayberry knew the IG was a heartless machine. He just did not understand; the deeper he delves into the system the more confuses he comes. He just doesn't know anymore.
For the rest of today, anyways, Mayberry just wanted to relax. And what better place than an indoor spa resort 73 miles up.
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D-001 looked curiously at Agent G. She walked a little closer to him, "D?"
"Yes. That is…" He said but before he could say anything further Agent G lunged towards D-001 wrapping her arms around his body and giving him a kiss on the lips.
"D, I can't believe it's you, I thought I'll never see you again." She let go of D and stepped back a little and took a closer look at D-001. She rubbed D-001's chest and shoulders with both her arms slightly, "Oh my, how muscular you've gotten."
D-001 was frozen. What the hell just happened? His mind could not comprehend her actions. He did not know what to do or how to respond; no one programmed him to deal with – whatever she just did! He stared confusedly at Agent G.
Her face was flushed; he was staring at her so intensely. So intense she could not look him straight his eyes. She felt so ecstatic.
"How are you, D?" she managed to say.
Alright, now he could respond to this, "I am functioning at normal stability, my internal temperature is at 98.4 degrees Fahrenheit, but my body is dehydrated, I require one liter of H2O and…"
"What are you taking about, D" Wha..what is this? Some sort of joke! I come all this way just to see him and he's playing a joke on me! Great, thank you, D!
"You ask about my current condition." D-001 repeated.
"You're kidding me, right?" Okay, know she was getting confused. Is he joking?
"No, the information is correct." He said affirmatively.
She sighed, "Well anyways, let's get out of here. I heard Kristina has come back from that long mission and is staying in Norwood. Let's go meet her, it's been so long since we saw her hasn't it?" She could not help but to notice that D-001 had confused expression on his face.
"Excuse me." D said.
"What is it D?" She wasn't all too happy to see him, anymore. He was starting to get on her nerve. How could he be so – unwelcoming to her.
"Do?" He paused, taking a better look at her, "Do I know you?"
"What?" She jumped back, "D, it's me." She couldn't believe what she was hearing! Was I gone that long?
"I am sorry; my memory does not recognize you." He said apologetically. The E-motion program was fully operating. He could sense that she was uncomfortable and quite angry.
"You don't know who I am?" She garbed his gray shirt and clutched her knuckles tight and stared him down.
"You are Agent G from SKIA, you are in the IG Secure Database." He said affirmably, though he felt like he did something wrong.
"You don't remember me, do you?" Jerk.
"We have never met. I am sorry for your confusion, Agent G…"
"I am your friend!" She cried, "your best friend! Damn it!" Her sapphire eyes swelled with tears. How could he have forgotten her? "Your girlfriend!" She said in desperation with a deep hint of anger.
"Negative, I am government materiel; I can not have friends – of any sort, I am sorry for the confusion." He unseated himself from the medical table, the girl still clutch to his shirt.
"What is wrong, D?" She slowly let go of his shirt and stepped back, she faced down she could not bear to see him. "Not even my name?"
"No."
"God, what did they do to you? It's me, Kayla!"
She was beyond furious. She just wanted to garb his head and smash it against something hard, and pointy! Does he really not know who she is? How dare he forget! How can he forget about his one and only – lover! Okay, well, not lovers, I suppose, we're only barely in are teens but damn it! That's no excuse!
But before she could do anything drastic Commander Newman walked in on the two. He was surprised to see Kayla here, that and a little displeased.
"Agent G, may I have a word with you." He said it most seriously.
"Yes – Commander Newman" She reluctantly followed Newman out of the PH-Lab. She turned her head to see D before the automatic sliding doors close, he was staring at her while he pressed his right hand's middle and index fingers on his lips with a perplexed expression on his face.
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"Miss G." The Commander said as they walked out of the facility into a different part of the base.
"Commander." She responded head down and reticent. She walked a step behind the Commander throughout the whole thing, she had no more respect for the commander and she dare not give him the honor of equals. Something happened to D and she knew the Commander was behind it.
"Let us discuss things in the privacy of the sanctuary, Miss G." He spoke again in a serious tone.
It was the deepest underground garden in the world, the Flora Sanctuary facility 70 miles underground inside the "Frozen Fortress". Eerily quiescent, the Flora Sanctuary was not a place of archetypal aesthetics, rather a garden only a man of science could appreciate, a less an ethical man of science could appreciate. Rows of evenly spaced out soil plots nourished genetically modified mutant plants of every variety: modified tulips with extremely large pedals, luminescent roses: reds, oranges, whites, all with naturally, genetically, thornless stems and delicate, glowing pedals. The brilliance of the roses was in stark contras to its neighboring red cabbage's purplish-black, all two hundred pounds of it. The air was thick with the warm humidity of the garden's atmosphere. Giant vertical and diagonal florescent-like light columns that stretch from the bottom of the garden to the roof of the room were utterly useless for so little light shinnied through. The columns were the garden's only source of light, and the dark green crawlers that spun around the columns restricted the amount of light they could give off. The leafy crawlers spun around everything, including the walls of the spherical room. This made for a spooky site, but otherwise, refreshing to those inside the "Fortress" who sought an escape from the steel and wired cages of their daily routine.
The two stood on a metal-framed balcony near the entrance of the door, here, no crawlers grew
"What have I told you, Miss G, you can't be walking around here with out my permission, Taylor may have the Fortress under his control but the HEAD facilities are my jurisdiction, understand."
"Commander, I don't really give a shit right now. What the hell did you do with D!" She hated look up at the Commander. Blast it! She should have brought those boots that added five inches to her stature.
"There were complications." He said quite plainly.
"Complications! He doesn't even know who I am!"
"I told you there would be risk involved…"
"But not like this! How could you!" Tears flowed freely from her eyes. She tried to suppress them but there was nothing she could do to make herself stop crying.
"Please understand, it is not easy for me either, but we had no choice, I had no choice, in the process." The commander sighed heavily; there was nothing he could say that would calm her rage. "It was do or don't"
He put his right hand on one of her shoulders, "I apologies for not telling you how high the risk was but that doesn't mean I shouldn't have allowed it." He looked back into the garden, "You must understand it was the only choice I had."
"I know, I know." She dried her tears, "What now?"
"With D-002 AWOL and a crisis emerging, the IG SP is thinking of scrapping Project HEAD and all other non-priority IG SP and SKIA projects." He looked deep into the garden before him, there was nothing more peaceful than nature. For how simple it may look in the outside, a balance is found in its formation. But, there was no equilibrium, not in nature. For all the peace, an equal amount of entropy existed. No matter how simple nature looks, a closer inspection reveals a much more complex system, "Have you spoken to agent K, yet?"
She raised her sad face up, "No, I haven't, I was planning to take D with me to go see her, but now."
"You know, she wanted to speak to you."
"What did she say?" She wasn't too concerned.
"She misses you – and Winters, and D." He faced Agent G, "She also said your sister has joined the IG on her own accord."
"My sis! Why!" She quickly went from sad to angry, "How can my sister do such a thing! She is but a child!"
"You forgot how intelligent she is for her age." He walked to a control panel on one of the walls and increased the amount of artificial light the plants were getting, "Isn't it obvious?"
"I have to go"
"No you can't, you know that and I know that. Your privileges there are severely limited. "
"Commander, is there more I need to know?"
"Yes, the IG has allowed me to pull you out from active duty and use you to train D-001."
"What do you mean?"
"D-001 lacks the basic skills of human interaction. Unfortunately, that is something we cannot program him with."
"And you want me to train him to act human? You got the wrong type of person for the job!" She walked towards the exit, "I'm not normal; I don't know how humans work." She turned back, towards the Commander, "Anyways, the IG is too constricted; the Directors are probably going to rethink their decision and put me back on active duty."
"If Project HEAD is canceled," He pressed another switch, the sprinkler system activated, "D will be terminated. The whole project is too costly for the IG to maintain; we all know that capital must go into the priorities first."
"Listen, Commander Newman," She walked back to him, "If you want D to act more human than I don't suggest having him exposed exclusively to IG members, everyone here in the IG is in state of disillusionment with today's societies, anyways, it's so monotonous it's depressing." She sighed, "If you want D to act something like human than I recommend you get outside help; some one who does not know about D's origins, or the fact that he's basically a walking computerized machine of selective destruction."
"Look, Commander, I can't do it! He looks so much like D but he is dead. I don't think I can look at him without losing heart."
"Well, it has to be some one hired then; normal, free-willed people would not normally familiarize themselves with 'people' like D" The Commander said as he flipped the heater system on.
"You'll be surprised. I wonder how many acquaintances Agent X has."
"This reminds me," he spoke again, "an acquaintance of mine has told me of a very suitable offer that may resolve this problem." He looked back at Kayla, "Also, it may kill two birds with one stone. If the offer is accepted it could give Project HEAD a better chance at staying alive."
"How so?" Kayla said.
"The Directors have been contemplating on how to perform the first part of the Stardust Operation without risking detection, if I eliminate the highest risk factor and contain the risk within my division than the Directors would have no choice but to maintain Project HEAD for the sake of the Stardust Operation."
"Do what need to be done, isn't what you have taught me?"
"Common sense cannot be taught: only learned," He saluted Agent G, "Carry on."
End of Episode One: Canto Two