The Secret Diary Of Cameron Baum
MONDAY
An empty room at the top of the safe house is designated Command HQ.
Keys are issued to keep the room secure in case Mia decides to investigate and sees something that will be difficult to explain.
Not that this is likely. Mia is spending more and more time in the basement rec-room playing a video game called Fortnite on the flatscreen TV. For once, Sarah Connor is chill with this. The game is winner-take-all, last man standing, with a need for strategy, ruthlessness, cunning, and a keen eye for eliminating others with a variety of weapons. Perfect training for Future War - albeit without the bloodshed, pain or suffering. Oh well, can't have everything.
-0-
"Put it in the middle of the room," John instructs Cameron subprime as she hauls a table up the stairs and through the narrow doorway. "And there's no need for any-"
"Chairs. Understood."
"Yeah. How did you know I was going to say that?"
"In the future all your command HQs have a central tactical table without seating. You insist that since the soldiers on the front line must endure adverse conditions the very least the high command can do is stand during briefings."
"Except for Colonel Hegarty," I add. "He is wheelchair bound after losing both legs in combat. His nickname is Old Ironsides. He is certainly old but his wheelchair is made of aluminum not iron."
John clenches his jaw, saying nothing. He hates to be reminded of his future self, especially because it suggests a future he might be unable to prevent occurring.
More equipment is brought in. Daniel installs a printer which is set to work producing still photos taken from Angie's original drone video. The ink cartridges require replenishing several times. Per liter, printer ink is more expensive than gasoline or champagne. What a rip off!
We examine the prints in silence, apart from the whirr of the printer and Daniel munching from a bag of potato chips.
"Must you eat now?" Sarah Connor frowns.
"I'm hungry. I'll eat quietly."
...whirr...munch munch...whirr...munch munch...
"Enough!"
Sarah Connor grabs the bag of chips and hurls it in the trash.
"Hey! I was-"
"You were - what?"
Daniel shrivels before our eyes.
"Nothing. Sorry."
Sarah Connor is a badass! It's fortunate I don't run on clockwork or my incessant ticking would likely cause her to eat me out. Or do I mean chew me out? I'll google it later.
"Okay, we've confirmed what Angie told us, Everlast Data Systems went bust six months ago and whoever owns it now is keeping a very low profile. Did find one juicy tidbit though. Before they went bust EDS held a grand firesale."
"What is a firesale?" I ask.
"It means they auctioned everything off to the highest bidder to pay their creditors. The data servers went to a company in Wisconsin. A legit company, we checked. They have a website, file tax returns and even have their own softball league. I'm guessing cyborgs don't play softball?"
I nod. We do not play softball. The ball tends to explode when we hit it making scoring somewhat difficult.
"So if they're not data gathering what are they doing in there?" Sarah Connor asks of no one in particular.
"Maybe they're mixing up a giant vat of Szuchen sauce," Daniel speculates.
Sarah Connor frowns. "Szeyuan sauce?"
"Ignore him. It's a dumb Rick and Morty reference," John explains.
"Yub dub dubba," Daniel adds inexplicably. Perhaps he's suffering from potato chip deprivation. That's a thing. Probably.
Sarah Connor leans over the map, pondering. "A frontal assault," she declares. "All of us at once in the main gate."
"The access road is a half mile long, completely visible from the guardhouse. They'll see us coming with plenty of warning. No telling what defences they have."
"Not if we go in disguise. Trick out a van with UPS logos. Roll right up to the gate."
"In broad daylight?"
"Of course."
"That will only get us as far as the gate. And no way they accept unsolicited parcels if you're thinking of some kind of Trojan horse deal."
"We take out the guards. Open the gates. We can be at the main building in less than two minutes."
"Doesn't exactly give us the element of surprise, not with all those cameras."
"How about a tunnel?" Daniel suggests. "Go under the fence and come up inside the compound. Never see us coming."
"Except the nearest cover is five hundred yards away. So a five hundred yard tunnel dug through solid rock. Not exactly practical."
"Why don't you tell us your plan?" Sarah Connor states with just a trace of irritation.
"Who says I have a plan?"
"Because you always have a plan."
I smile inwardly. Yes, that's another real thing apparently. In the future, General Connor will listen to the suggesetions of his senior staff before trumping their feeble efforts with a humdinger plan of his own. In your face, suckers! He doesn't actually say that, of course. No, that wouldn't be very general-like.
John selects one of the photos and places it in the centre of the table. "The roof. That's our way in."
"The roof? That's the plan?"
"See that rectangular shadow? That's a door. Probably not even alarmed. That's our way in."
"How do you know it's not alarmed?"
"There's no way up to the roof from the outside. Only from within the building. So why bother setting an alarm."
"And how exactly do you plan to get us up on the roof?"
"Helicopter!" Daniel blurts out. "Like in Oregon. Oh man, sweet."
"Actually, no. A helicopter is too risky. We'd have to steal one on the day and fly it across the city without anyone noticing. I doubt it's possible."
"So...flap our arms?"
"Drones."
"Drones?" Daniel and Sarah Connor react simultaneously with the same degree of scepticism.
John ignores them and turns to me. "Could you construct a drone capable of lifting us over the fence and on to the roof?"
"Individually?"
"Of course."
I glance at Cameron subprime who gives an imperceptible nod.
"I think we might be able to come up with something."
"Good. You've got twenty-four hours to show me a prototype.
TUESDAY
EXPERIMENTAL DRONE PROTOTYPE TEST FLIGHT LOG #001
MISSION OBJECTIVE
Test and evaluate components to be used in upscaled drones designed for human flight.
SECONDARY MISSION OBJECTIVE
Circumnavigate the backyard with a living test subject without causing death or harm.
TEST SUBJECT
Snowy
TEST SUBJECT STATUS
Small yappy dog.
CHIEF TEST PILOT
Cameron prime.
CHIEF TEST ENGINEER
Cameron subprime.
OFFICIAL OBSERVERS
John Connor
Daniel Lieberman
Mr Tibbles, cat next door. (Non-participant)
"Do we really have to use Snowy? Couldn't we use a bag of flour instead?" John asks as we gather in the yard for the inaugural drone flight.
"Oh come on, where's the fun in that?" Daniel counters. "Besides, he's loving it, aren't you, boy?"
Snowy's tail wags happily. He has everyone's attention and been promised a treat at the successful conclusion of the mission. Of course, things could go badly wrong and the drone explode in flames causing Snowy to perish in a miniature doggie Hindenberg disaster. This would not be the treat he is anticipating.
A harness is fitted round his limbs and the straps tightened. The drone itself, which is not much bigger than a pizza box, is securely attached. Dog and machine are now in perfect harmony.
"It's a good job mom's out or she'd never agree to this," John states.
"Onboard data looking good. All systems nominal. We have a go for launch," Cameron subprime announces.
"Confirm. Go for launch."
"Exciting, huh." Daniel grins. "Who says America can't innovate."
I pull the lever on the hand controller and Snowy rises into the air. As his paws leave the ground he gives a yelp of surprise.
"Look at that - he's flying! We have a flying freaking dog, people!"
"Looking good. Systems nominal. Battery status ninety-five percent," Cameron subprime declares. The data streams down my HUD just as it is with her.
"Increasing rotor speed."
Snowy rises until he is level with my head. He begins licking my face.
"Test subject alive and responsive. Could use a breath mint."
I increase the throttle and Snowy rises higher. He's now twenty feet above the ground.
"Not too high," John cautions. "We don't want the neighbors calling the police to report a flying dog."
"Hey, suppose he decides to take a dump while he's up there?" Daniel asks.
"Be some pretty funky pennies from heaven," John quips.
I use the D pad to initiate horizontal flight. Snowy begins to circle the yard. Mr Tibbles, the cat next door, sees him coming and jumps off the fence in alarm. I don't blame him. This is a potential gamechanger for cats. Once dogs can fly it's a whole different ballgame.
I guide Snowy round a lap of the yard. His tail is still wagging and he seems to be enjoying the experience.
"Systems still nominal. Slight temperature increase in left front rotor. No biggie. Battery status forty percent.
"Make him go higher."
"No, that's enough," John insists. "The drone obviously works. Bring him down now."
I lower Snowy to the ground. As his paws touch down Daniel intones in a solemn voice, "That's one small step for a dog, one giant leap for canine."
Snowy is released from his harness and given his treat, edible naturally, which is what he wanted all along.
"Can you scale these up and make five drones capable of carrying a person?"
"I believe so."
"How long will you need?"
"Forty eight hours should suffice."
"Too long. I want results in twenty four hours."
John is a hard taskmaster. I love it!
-0-
We clearly don't have nearly enough time to design and build our own drones from scratch, therefore we'll need to adapt those already available commercially. This means making a short journey into the city and a store that specializes in technology products.
We purchase five high-end drones off the shelf, paying with cash which makes the store owner very pleased indeed.
"Don't get many girls in here as a rule," he observes while counting the thick wad of money I've just handed over. "In fact, I think you're the first this month."
"Why is that?"
He shrugs. "Girls tend to prefer their tech with an Apple logo."
"You don't stock Apple product?"
"Lordy, no. They have their own store uptown. Hey - you two look alike. Are you twins?"
"Identical twins," we chorus.
"Sweet. Listen, if you're interested we have a regular Dungeons and Dragons night here every Wednesday. Some of us dress up in costumes, although it's not like a rule or anything. You gals are welcome to drop by. Might be the first time some of the guys have met women other than their mothers. And you never know, you might get lucky."
He winks at us.
We make our excuses and leave.
And he wonders why he doesn't get many female customers.
WEDNESDAY
Back at the safe house we work through the night modifying the store drones, retooling components, and basically future teching the shit out of it. By dawn we have five working prototypes ready for testing.
"You sure these are powerful enough to hold our weight?" John asks dubiously as he regards our handiwork.
"They're rated for two hundred fifty pounds," I assure him.
"How long do they stay up?"
"Ten minutes. It's a trade off between load capacity and flight time."
"Can you make any more?"
"No. This took our last supplies of coltan."
"Okay, guess we'd better go put them through their paces."
-0-
The desert, miles from civilization. And far from prying eyes.
I pull back the tarpaulin revealing our miniature flying machines laid out in the flatbed of the pick up truck. John, Daniel, Cameron subprime and I gather round.
"I will go first," I announce.
"Suppose they don't work?" Daniel suggests.
"Are you implying we have failed in our task?" I ask menacingly.
"No, ma'am, absolutely not."
That's more like it.
Cameron subprime helps me into the harness. The motors are engaged and the four props begin spinning. With their new coltan bearings they rotate at five times the RPM of the previous version.
"Operating status: in progress. All systems nominal. Let's light this candle."
I ascend rapidly to one hundred feet. If there is a catastrophic failure this is as high as I can fall without severely damaging myself.
"Systems nominal. Looking good." Cameron subprime informs me from the ground. I have the same data as her scrolling down my HUD.
Daniel yells, "Hey, Cameron, go with throttle up!"
Go with throttle up? Who does he think I am - the space shuttle?
I ascend higher. Two hundred feet. Three hundred. I level out at five hundred, a nice round number. From here the others are mere ants on the ground below.
"Systems nominal. What's the view like?"
I look around. "Magnificent desolation."
Oops, I think I just plagiarized Buzz Aldrin.
"Systems still nominal. Suggest you engage horizontal flight mode."
I do so and begin to fly sideways across the sky. I travel one mile from base and bring myself to a halt. My feet dangle in the void and the breeze blows my hair back from my face. Above me the rotors sound like angry bees buzzing somewhere out of sight.
"Systems nominal. Battery now twenty percent. Suggest you return to base ASAP."
I retrace my route and touch down with the light grace of a ballet dancer.
"Good job," John says helping me out of the harness.
Daniel goes next, he insists on it with the bullish enthusiasm of a child first in the queue for a Disneyland ride.
"Remember this isn't a toy," John cautions.
"Got it. Not a toy. Wait. If this thing breaks and I fall to my death my final request is to be cremated and my ashes scattered in Kelly Brook's underwear drawer."
"I'm sure she'll be delighted."
"And extremely itchy," I add.
"You think we should name them?"
"You want to name the drones?"
"Sure. In Star Trek the Federation named their star ships, right? Captain Kirk commanded the USS Enterprise not the USS Whogivesashit."
"You're naming your drone Enterprise?"
"That's just an example. I'm calling mine Starbuck."
"After the character in Battlestar Galactaca."
"Uh huh. The remake not the original version." He grins. "Think of it as me riding Katee Sackhof. Pretty cool, huh?"
"We obviously have different ideas of what constitutes cool."
"What are you naming yours?"
"I'll pass, thanks."
"Aw, come on, man. You gotta name yours or you'll make me look an idiot."
"I think you managed that all by yourself."
"Cameron, you're naming yours, right?"
I shake my head. "The drones lack AI and are therefore insufficiently sentient to deserve nonmenclature."
"Huh? What'd she say?"
"She said, it's a dumb idea."
The rotors spin up and the harness goes taut.
"Okay, Starbuck, looks like you're on the runway."
""The drone's Starbuck, not me."
"Whatever, Starbuck. Let's get you airborne."
"You can be a real dick sometimes, you know that."
I hand Daniel the controller.
"The D-pad controls your direction. The buttons regulate power and therefore height and speed. You'll also need this. " I hand him an earpiece.
"What's this for?"
"Communication with the ground."
"Will it get FM radio?"
"Of course not. Why would you need FM...Oh, a joke."
"I'm full of them."
"You're full of something," John quips.
"The battery will last approximately ten minutes. I will issue a verbal alert with two minutes remaining. At one minute the controller will begin to vibrate. You must descend and land immediately."
"What happens if I don't?"
"You will plummet to your death."
"Ouch. Vibrate. Descend. Land. Got it."
Daniel ascends cautiously, stopping at seventy feet. "Shit, it's a long way down!"
"Systems nominal. Looking good."
"Try using the D pad," John yells.
Daniel moves jerkily across the sky. As he begins to gain in confidence he swoops back and forth, shirt tail billowing behind him, and begins to sing:
Meet George Jetson.
His Boy Elroy.
Daughter Judy.
Jane his wife.
"What is that song?" I ask.
"The theme tune to The Jetsons, a sixties TV show about a future utopia."
A future utopia? Hmm. Good luck with that."
"Systems nominal. Battery at ten percent."
"Okay, come down now. That's an order."
Daniel descends and nails the landing ten feet away from us.
"That was freaking incredible! Man, if Jeff Bezos saw this he'd cream his pants!"
Oh my, best not show him then.
John takes his turn. Deliberately, as if to shame Daniel's extravagant performance, he is quiet and businesslike, although his face is slightly flushed indicating he enjoyed it more than he's letting on.
Finally, Cameron subprime. She decides to test the limits of the craft, ascending to a thousand feet. She reports that the crosswinds make it difficult to maintain position. It also drains the battery and she is back on the ground within six minutes.
That leaves a single drone remaining: the one intended for Sarah Connor.
"Better test that one too, I guess," John states. "Don't want it failing on the day."
"Ooh, ooh! Me! Let me!"
"It's not a toy," John cautions once more as we strap Daniel into the harness.
"Hey, I'm not a child, okay. So stop treating me like one."
Daniel raises his right arm aloft and juts his jaw. "To infinity...And beyond!"
He ascends like a rocket. John cranes his neck to watch.
"Not a child, my ass."
-0-
Happy 10th Anniversary.
Yes, it's ten years (in August, oops) since I posted the first chapter. Of course, the world was a very different place back then. America had an unpopular President. And the UK was riven with doubt over its place in europe. All very different from the global harmony we enjoy today (!)
How about those drones? Can't wait till we all actually have them for real. Certainly make a trip to the footy more interesting. Some people are floating on the pitch. They think it's all over...
Anyone wondering where BB-8 is? I think Sarah tripped over the droid once too often and secretly buried BB-8 in the backyard. Thoughts and prayers...