Chapter two…
[We return to the fic, and see Whitman pacing up and down in his office impatiently. A crumpled sheet of paper is on the desk: the camera zooms in to the title: SIERRA ARMY DEPOT… “The Sierra Army Depot is the foremost tech centre in the field of Advanced Neuro-Biological Intelligence in the world! Such creations as the Omega Security Robot X-85, the Taurus Assault Mech Dl-84, and the Lammasu Net-“]
WHITMAN: Huh?
[The cameraman, having been spotted scrabbling around on the floor, beats a hasty retreat, after a few shots are fired.]
WHITMAN: Damn paparazzi. *chewing nails* Where the hell IS she?
[He continues to pace… until a bugle sounds.]
WHITMAN: Sod! Sod! She’s… here!
SOLDIER: *popping head round door* Commander, sir, The Em-
WHITMAN: I know, you cretin! Get out there, and give her the welcome!
SOLDIER: *saluting* Sir.
[A helicopter is heard landing. Some distance away, the cameraman catches his breath, and vows never to do these damn underground assignments ever again…]
[The cameraman strikes another deal with the union, and finds his way to the Sierra Army Depot. Caz, Matt and Alex escaped from the big robot thing, and made their way through the corridors to this place…]
ALEX: *hums to self, taps foot…*
[The officers quarters.]
ALEX: *checks watch, then mobile for texts…*
[The place is furnished like a luxury hotel: Britons like to look after their top brass. Running water, heated blankets, and the robotic equivalent of room service all conspire to make this place the nicest we’ve seen so far. Depressing, really, innit?]
ALEX: *wanders over to bookcase*
[Of course this ain’t just one room, as that would be silly. The area consists of a corridor with walnut skirting, deep red shag pile carpet, tasteful gold leafing on the skirting, and twelve different rooms, each with thick, heavy doors…]
ALEX: *flips on TV*
[And many amenities besides.]
ALEX: Hey, where’s the other tw-
[Darkness. Breathing. Someone else? Darkness…]
VOICE: Hey, you ok?
[Loud… voice… person. Breathing. Darkness. Weight…]
VOICE: Tsch. More stims, then…
[Loud.. voice. Darkness. Breathing. Pain! Jab! Hypodermic needle! Ow! Jesus! What the hell?]
VOICE: Heh, bout time. Thought you were gonna sleep for another few days, at least…
[Captain Greyhound wakes up. He’s lying on a hospital bed, with some sort of massive needle sticking out of his arm. A red liquid courses from it into his bloodstream. Bagpuss Girl is sleeping peacefully by his side, with, unfortunately, several stitches in her forehead. Zach is fiddling with some machines by the side of the bed.]
CG: Argh! You! What the hell happened? And what happened to her?
ZACH: Oh, cheers, don’t look so pleased to see me…
CG: Who the hell ARE you?
ZACH: Not important right now. Look, just get this down you, and then we’ll talk… when you’re better.
CG: What? Better? From this?
[He flicks the sheets aside, expecting to reveal a broken leg. Instead he reveals BG’s legs. Staring in astonishment at both legs in turn, he looks up quizzically at Zach.]
CG: Ok. Those legs there do not astonish me. But what the HELL happened to mine?
ZACH: They’re perfectly healthy!
CG: THEY’RE FLOATING IN A TANK OVER THERE!
ZACH: And they’re healthy!
CG: What the HELL happened to me?
ZACH: Well, basically, you had two broken legs, a severed artery, and several pulverised bones. Oh, and your knee was behind your head.
CG: …meep.
ZACH: So, when I tried to repair your damage, I noticed that there are quite a few things that the depot robots could do to, well, improve you.
CG: What? What the hell were you thinking? How do you choose to improve my legs like that?
ZACH: Easy: they had a catalogue.
[There is a loud *bing!* and a cessetation of noise.]
ZACH: Ah, the legs are done.
CG: *distressed* Whuh? What?
ZACH: Ok… just let the robots do the work, ok?
CG: Wait just a minute! I ain’t doing anything until I’m sure what’s going on! Who are you? Why the hell have you been marinading my legs? What about Ba-
[A robot anaesthetises him. CG slumps.]
ZACH: Righty. Medbot #347, get going and put those legs back! I’ll be back in about an hour, I’m off for a look round.
MEDBOT: Sir. *bbzzt*
[BG stirs, and awakens. This is cos two robots are moving her out of CG’s bed. Surgery is an experience best left unshared.]
BG: *yawns, purrs* Myah... Mike, why’re we up so early? Mike? Mike! What the…
[She freezes as she takes in the scene.]
ZACH: Agh, damn, you’re awake now… ok, looks like I’ve got some explaini-
BG: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO HIM? WHERE AM I? WHO ARE YOU? Why are my claws sheathed?
[Good question. Zach sees this, and covers his face, whilst yelling at BG to let him explain. She doesn’t, understandably, considering that CG’s legs are in now on a stretcher, about to be reattached. Leaping up in a fury of claws and kicks, BG suddenly realises that when you’ve been almost killed by a demented robot, the one thing a body wants is rest. She falls to the floor, her head swimming.]
ZACH: Dammit, are you mad? Look.. take this.
[He proffers another of those large needles, full of the red liquid. BG looks at it fearfully, unable to take it or demand that it is taken away and for Zach to sod off now. Sighing, Zach jabs the needle into her arm. The red liquid pumps through… the needle empties… BG wraps her hands around Zach’s neck and attempts to bring the claws into play.]
BG: *hisses*
ZACH: *off guard* Argh! *glukk* Stop..
BG: Not until you explain just what the hell is going on!
[Suddenly Zach ain’t there any more. There was a blur, a swift movement, and now he is on the other side of the room, weapon in hand.]
BG: Hey, you don’t have to make it read like a porn script, you know. And also: AAAAAAAARGH! OOWWWWWW! OW OW OW OWW!
ZACH: I’m sorry, ok? I don’t really like having razor sharp claws attempting to tear my throat out!
[BG tries to clutch her wrists, somehow. Each wrist in the other hand, perhaps. Except she can’t, as they’re broken. Sighing again, Zach motions for the medbots to move in. They do.]
WHITMAN: *nervously chews nails*
[Commander Whitman: veteran officer of the Flavian army, doer of deeds, and general all-round action hero. He is now sitting in his office frenziedly chewing his nails and drinking heavily. Oh, and by the way… anything you may read concerning… footwear ain’t true]
SOLDIER: *from outside door* Sir! Commander, sir! The Empress is here! She wants to see you NOW, she says! Seriously, sir! *tinged with fear* Sir, you really shouldn’t keep her waiting!
WHITMAN: Ok! OK! Just let me… uh, compose myself first…
SOLDIER: SIR! Please!
WHITMAN: *swallows nervously* Um, ok…
[He unbolts the door.]
SOLDIER: Presenting: Empress T’Asnica Of The Flavian Empire!
[Bugles are heard, as if by magic.]
WHITMAN: I know, Private, I think we can quit with the formalities... you’d better go.
SOLDIER: Sir. *salutes*
[The Empress enters, after a lengthy pause to get Whitman at his most nervous. Velvet cloak, silken gown, ermine trim, the usual empress-y stuff. Knee high boots, for the simple premise that it is something that I enjoy writing down and thinking about *grins*.]
SOLDIER: Shoe-fetishist.
[Oi! Emotional cripple.]
SOLDIER: Boot-fondler.
[Woman hater.]
SOLDIER: Trainer-licker.
[Bit-character.]
SOLDIER: *turns and flees, sobbing*
T’ASNICA: *ahem*
[Ah yes, sorry, your highness.]
WHITMAN: Yes. Uh, your high majesty, what brings you to our humble base?
[Dramatic scene change!]
ALEX: Damn those scene changes. Damn them, I say. They mean that I get more screen time, for one thing.
MATT: Oh, you love it really. Go and explore some more, if you’re camera shy.
ALEX: Fair enough… I’ll see if there’re any more rooms apart from bedrooms and en suite bathrooms…
CAZ: Sounds good to us.
[Alex stumbles slightly out of the bedroom door, as if he’d been pushed. The sounds of glasses clinking are heard from inside. Any correlation between what happens when you open a champagne bottle and… anything else you can think of, is to be kept to yourself.]
ALEX: What a strange sexual deviant you are. I mean, shoes, and now champagne bottles?
[What? Shut it. Go explore.]
ALEX: Hmm? Aww, you’re not are you? You ain’t turning the camera in there, are y-
[Explore. And no.]
ALEX: Fair enough… ok, I’m off. Eidle eidle eee, and so on.
[Obviously. He tramps off down the corridor, and takes a quick look in several of the rooms. Wow, they’re all bedrooms. Isn’t this fun?]
ALEX: No, and you know it isn’t. Gimme something to do, for gods sake.
[He walks off down a side corridor. Espying a small door mark-]
ALEX: Huh? What? No I’m not! I’m going in there! *motions to master bedroom*
[ESPYING A SMALL DOOR marked “Authorised personnel only”, he takes a peek inside.]
ALEX: What? No! *tries to stop walking* If it’s “authorised personnel only”, then it’s dangerous! C’mon! Stop!
[The door sticks a little, and then, *creeeeeaaaaaak*, it opens properly. Inside: very dark.]
ALEX: Eh, may as well ride with it. “I wonder what’s in the mysterious dark room?”
[He flicks on the light switch. Inside…]
ALEX: Well bugger me, a staff room. Ain’t this the most exciting fic you’ve ever read?
[Through the staff room, and through the door on the other side…]
ALEX: Yeesh, when does this END? *creeeeeaaaak* Oh…
[…]
ALEX: Oh dear. *paling* Thanks for giving me this on a full stomach, too…
[As he staggers off, clutching the walls, the camera pans into the room. It… used to be a computer lab, by the looks of things, but the large number of… well, mutilated bodies, to put it nicely, spoil the effect. Several of the unfortunate… people appear to have been merely torn to shreds, but the majority have quite a few large areas of skin missing, and holes where there should be no holes. And stop thinking that. To add to the oh-so-pleasant atmosphere, the unlucky technicians appear to have been dead for quite some months. The air conditioning for the depot, however, is very effective…]
ALEX: *on mobile, weakly* Look.. sorry for disturbing you… no, I wasn’t hoping to hear anything…. look, just listen… no, I wasn’t! Look… I think I found where all the personnel went…
[CG stirs. In fact, he stirs his tea, as he sits on the bed, glaring at Zach.]
ZACH: Look, I’m sorry, ok? Put it this way… if it weren’t for me, the Behemoth woulda murdered you both!
CG: *sullenly* Omega bot.
ZACH: *stares, then…* Yeah… righty. Anyway. You both attacked me after I tried to heal you! Don’t you think you at least owe me an apology?
CG: ‘ry.
ZACH: Well, fair enough. And I’m sorry for amputating your legs without telling you. And, uh, for breaking her wrists.
CG: You what?
[Flinging his tea aside, CG leaps for Zach, driving off the bench he is sitting on with all the strength in his legs he can muster. Darting across the room in a blur of movement, CG misses Zach by a huge margin and impacts on, or rather, through the wall. Hard. Of course, if he hadn’t had the nanotech implants in his leg muscles, he would have cannoned into Zach and been able to snap his neck with ease. Luckily for the plot, he can’t, and so smashes straight through the wall.]
ZACH: *tuts, crosses over to where the Captain lies* Look, can we call a truce? I’m sick of having to dodge your attacks all the time!
CG: *muffled, dazed* Mmm, right, ok…
ZACH: Cool… um, can you tell her, when she wakes up?
[CG gets up and dusts himself down.]
CG: Yeah, sure, will do. And now, I bid you goodnight, Vienna. *collapses*
ZACH: Fantastic.
[Whitman is still rather ill at ease in the presence of T’Asnica. This is explained shortly.]
T’ASNICA: *leafing through account books* Hmm… this is odd… you appear to have lost about five thousand pounds from your arms research budget. *icily* Do you know where this could have gone, Commander?
WHITMAN: Um, are you sure, Your High-
T’ASNICA: Majesty.
WHITMAN: *sweating* Your Majesty?
T’ASNICA: *frostily* No, I meant “Your High Majesty”.
WHITMAN: Ah, um, right. Anyway. I’m sure they’re just a small accounting error?
T’ASNICA: I sincerely doubt that, as your aide de campe has informed me…
WHITMAN: What? Whu…? Felix?
SOLDIER: *staring at ground, then at T’Asnica* Sorry, sir…
T’ASNICA: Your little party may cost you dear, commander…
WHITMAN: *whimpers*
T’ASNICA: *coyly* Unless… I don’t suppose you’d be interested in joining me in my suite later on?
WHITMAN: *stares, shudders* Um, I’d like that very much, Your High Majesty…
T’ASNICA: Then I shall see you tonight, Commander… and now, I must go. Oh, but I forgot, how can we ensure that the only important figures in the near future, commander, are… ours?
WHITMAN: *staring at floor in terror* I… I’m not sure, Your High Majesty….
T’ASNICA: Hmm…
[She looks down at the accounts book, and then up at Whitman. He raises his gaze, unsteadily, and tries not to faint as the shadows of the room begin to vaguely pulsate… and the book bursts into flame.]
T’ASNICA: Goodbye, commander, privates… and Felix… *winks*
[She exits.]
WHITMAN: *to world in general* Jesus… she’s bloody nice to look at, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with someone who makes things like THAT happen?
PRIVATE FELIX: Yeah… what?
WHITMAN: *glowers*
[The sound of glass breaking is heard.]
[Sound of purring…]
ZACH: *making pot of tea, singing to radio, on which The Living End are inexplicably playing* “Calling you out, all of your plans.. will be washed away, washed away….”
[Sound of more contented purring…]
ZACH: “When news becomes gossip, and the hounds, begin to bleeeed…”
[Purring stops. Sound of door opening.]
ZACH: “The rich mans inspiration… is the beggars greeeeee-“ *alarmed* What the HELL are you doing here?
BG: Oh, don’t stop on account of us *giggles*.
CG: Sign him! Sign him!
BG: *giggles again*
CG: Hehe… hey, what station is this?
ZACH: S’the military station, ok?
RADIO: “And there’s no way to stop them, servicing that neeeeeed…” We now interrupt this broadcast for a special, um, broadcas-
[Zach slams his hand down on the power switch.]
ZACH: Next time tell me when you’re gonna creep up on me!
BG: Hehe, where would the fun be in that?
[Her and CG grab a cup of tea and leave the medbay, heading off towards the room they were in before. Zach remains behind.]
ZACH: *sweating* Jesus, that was close…
[Meanwhile… at the Flavian HQ, the special, um, broadcast, is actually heard. Whitman is in the broadcast booth, making his announcement.]
WHITMAN: Zach Winterman, you have seceded from the Flavian empire along with your squad! This is an act of high treason, which is punishable by annexation of your property, body, and family, as you well know! HOWEVER, we are willing to make a compromise: return, and all you will suffer is a demotion to Second Lieutenant, and your squad to Corporal status… sod the rank, boy, just get back here, we need your skills! Seriously! For the love of… you have to be out there! If you hear this, PLEASE respond!
[Zach follows the two superheroes through to their adopted room. Well, it’s got a sofa and a TV, and isn’t painted puce, so it’s the best one yet.]
ZACH: Yergh… had to get some sugar for this *waves cup*… it’s an addiction, so sue me *grins*.
CG: Hmm, righty…
ZACH: Anyway… I’ve been meaning to ask, what the hell are you doing in this place? I mean, it’s a remote mountain base in the middle of the most inhospitable mountain range Britain has to offer!
BG: Yeah, well, England has rather mild terrain, dontcha think? These mountains wouldn’t qualify as Himalayan foothills.
ZACH: Yeah, well, and it’s full of the most advanced technology this world currently has to offer. Oh, and the doors are three metres of lead-lined steel. How on earth didja get here?
CG: Hmm… I think you could start by answering a few questions, too… then we’ll tell ya…
ZACH: What, don’t you trust me?
CG: No, it’s just that our story is mind bogglingly dull.
ZACH: *sighs* Righty, ok… shoot, then.
BG: Hmm… well, wh-
[She is cut off by running footsteps. They see a figure sprint down the corridor towards the medical bay, followed at a distance by two other figures. The first runner crashes into the doors… as opposed to “through” the doors. They fall to the ground, mildly stunned and severely winded.]
CG: Hang on! Only one person we know is that dopey!
[The other two career into him, and tumble to the ground. Then, they scramble to their feet, try to drag the other figure up, and fail. Shrugging, they leave it. They step into the medical room, leaving the other person to get up groggily, and follow suite.]
BG: Yeah! C’mon, let’s go see what’s happened.
[They dart out.]
ZACH: Hmm, fine, ignore my life story, then.
[He exits into the corridor. There, CG + BG are questioning a stunned and dazed Alex, who has fallen over again. Matt and Caz are frantically searching for some stimulants.]
ALEX: Ugh. God. How many people do you think lived in this place?
CG: Hmm, it looks pretty big… about three hundred?
ZACH: Nah, this is the first floor: this’d be for official visits only, really… I’d say about four thousand in a permanent depot like this.
ALEX: Arrrrgh… four thousand, like that… and who the hell are you?
CG: Like what?
BG: Couldja try explaining it to us from the beginning?
MATT: *calling* I, uh, think you oughta see for yourself…
[The group of six tramp down the corridor… well, down a corridor… to the room where the unfortunate technicians met their end. The way some of them have fallen after being apparently flung to the side, this is a literal description. The door creaks open again, for dramatic effect, and, as Alex, Matt and Caz hide their gaze from what’s inside, CG, BG and Zach don’t have prior warning.]
CG: Look, just tell us what it is… ah, well, uh, don’t, then.
BG: Hmm. Hey, I saw something like this before, in that Turkish butchery near our old place… well, uh, with dogs, not people, obviously, but just making conversation before psychosis takes over.
ZACH: Hmm.. hang on a second, something here doesn’t look right…
[He enters the room, and begins examining the corpses…]
CG: Urgh, god, how can he do that?
BG: Yeah… he must have a stomach of iron…
ZACH: *reappearing* Oh dear. We, uh, we have a problem… rather a large one. A very, very, very very large one… bugger…
MATT: So, then, this problem… is it important? Get to some sort of point, why dontcha!
ZACH: Ooh, hell… look, we’d better go someplace to sit, this will take quite some time… *muttering* Sod, sod, sod…
ALEX: *nudging CG* He ain’t happy, is he?
[Scathing glares ensure.]
[Back at Flavian HQ. And no, it ain’t named after the amphitheatre, ok? The base is under fire, by the looks of things… all the tents and non-essential buildings have been evacuated, and the entire vanguard of the Flavian legions, the tenants of Flavian HQ, or just the Peridian 9th (to make sure that I didn’t have to type Flavian again…) are dug into reinforced bunkers, or the hastily-constructed trench system surrounding the base and helipad. Several burnt-out JCBs still litter the place near the trenches. Whitman is sitting in an ersatz-office built in a nexus of trenches. Two soldiers enter…]
SOLDIER #1: Sir, there’s a message from the board of defence… we have to pull out of here.
WHITMAN: *stares sullenly at the sandbagged wall*
SOLDIER #2: Sir? We really do, we’re getting hammered… we’ve taken three casualties, and about… um, six hundred wounded.
WHITMAN: Huh? Only three? Jesus, what are those things armed with, water pistols?
SOLDIER #2: Uh, no, sir, recon suggests that they’re carrying what appear to be a heavily modified rail gun that fires a very, very small pellet of… we think it’s a narcotic, frankly.
WHITMAN: Um, what?
SOLDIER #1: Look, sir, it’s been designed to knock people out quickly and efficiently, and the from the stuff we’ve seen, people don’t wake up without some quite insanely strong endorphin blockers.
WHITMAN: In English?
SOLDIER #1: We need drugs to wake them up.
WHITMAN: Right… *diverting conversation* How the hell do you know all this?
SOLDIER #2: Captured an enemy… shot it in the legs repeatedly, and removed the arms with pliers…
WHITMAN: What the…? Pliers? Dude, what happened to the Geneva Convention?
SOLDIER #1: Ah, yeah, sir, that’s the thing… I think you’d better see the prisoner first, before you make any snap decisions…
SOLDIER #2: Yeah, uh, we have it in custody in the main bunker… it’s currently welded to the wall to stop any… escape attempts.
WHITMAN: Wuh... welded? Jesus Christ, man! What were you
thinking?
SOLDIER #1: *darkly* I think you’d better come see…
[The six at the Sierra army depot are arranged around the table in one of the officers bedrooms. The bedclothes are mussed, as though someone has used them recently. Guess who. Oh, uh, and hey… the fact that there are six people, and two couples hasn’t escaped me. Anyone wishing for, ahem, the other two to hook up are going to be very disappointed, ok? And please god, nobody write tribute shipper fan fiction, please…]
ZACH: Ok, I’ll explain why I’m so shocked about that lot… you s-
CG: Hey, how about telling us who the hell you are, and what you’re doing here?
ZACH: You first, then *prods*.
CG: We found a keycard, well, Caz did, and now we wanna live here as it’s a cool place for superheroes to live.
ZACH: Hehe… you think that this place is a cool place for superheroes to live? Jesus… anyway, who the hell are you?
CG: Oh, uh, sorry. Right, I’m Captain Greyhound, that’s Bagpuss Girl, and they’re Caz and Matt.
ZACH: Cool, right.
ALEX: *ahem*.
ZACH: Well… ok, I’ll go. My name’s Zach Winterman… Captain in the Flavian army, of Eagle Company. I’m here with my command squad, and what remains of the company, to investigate this depot…
MATT: Whoa, whoa, “what remains of your company”?
ZACH: Hmm, yeah… well, we got ambushed. By a numerically inferior force, it has to be said.
BG: And this company of yours, it took a few losses?
ZACH: Uh, no… *pained* about nine hundred and seventy. Including the Colonel. So, I’ve had to take over as the first officer.
CG: Jesus… well, at least you couldn’t have been an elite company, no offence…
ZACH: Heh, you’d think? Eagle company are what we like to call the SAS of the Flavians. And we got completely decimated by the enemy…
ALEX: Um, that’s all very good, but the author has been dancing around the issue as to just what the hell the enemy are for quite some time now. What the hell WERE they?
ZACH: Um… look, I’d better tell you why I’m here to investigate this base, before I tell you what we’re facing, otherwise you’d never believe me…
ALEX: *tuts*
ZACH: Righty. We’d been assigned by our superiors to investigate some large army base from before the war-
CG: War? There was a war?
ZACH: Well, ok, international incident-
BG: International incident? Whuh…? What?
ZACH: Ok, ok, the old Flavian empire set up bases just about everywhere in the world, ok? Only a few remain. And we wanna find them again.
MATT: Old Flavian empire?
ZACH: *covers face with hands* Yes, you heard me, old Flavian empire.
CAZ: Who the hell are the Flavians?
ZACH: ….
CAZ: I mean, we’ve never heard of them, ever.
ZACH: Ok. How clueless ARE you? Just tell me what you know…
CG: We moved in here. People have died. You beat some robot up.
ZACH: Hmm, ok. Flavians: you never heard of us? We come from Flavia.
BG: Buh?
ZACH: You know, that large empire formed when Italy, under it’s
revolutionary leader Susanna Flavia, which annexed Russia, of all countries,
and plowed it’s budget into military research? Of course, this would be
where Stalin mysteriously disappeared. And we got warning signs found in odd
places saying “WARNING: PARALLEL UNIVERSES AT WORK”.
ALEX: It sickens me to think that that is the best explanation I could come up with.
CG: Forget I asked. Anyway, now we know what “Flavia” is. Cool.
ZACH: Oh, uh, not really… you see, we didn’t know it at the time, but Ms Susanna managed to bring about a series of reforms that were only discovered to be rehashes of old Roman plans until after they had been elected… I suppose in hindsight, her posing naked for electorate photoshoots was a wise move.
BG/CAZ: …
ZACH: Yup. Surprisingly, the old roman ideology worked incredibly well: it transformed the flagging economies of Italy and Russia into thriving powers. So, instead of using this money to fund huge wastes saying how great we are, like a certain… Centurial Dome, was it?
CG: Indeed.
ZACH: We put all our new funding into R&D for new forms of energy. After several false starts, involving fermenting geese, we finally hit gold: linear accelerators could, uh, accelerate materials to incredibly high speeds, and, coupled with new isotopes of several radioactive gases discovered in high-end nuclear reactors, we found that we could create some sort of plasma out of anything we put in the funnel at the start.
ALL: ….
[If you’re getting alienated, just tell that wall over there…]
ZACH: Now the thing about plasmas is that the charged particles become separated: the electrons split off from the atoms. This means that the plasma has a tendency to.. um, explode incredibly violently after a few milliseconds, due to the electromagnetic imbalances. But if we can control this explosion, then we can put out enough power to make a nuclear plant look like someone burning a candle.
ALL: …
ZACH: So, we used this new found power for, well, power. An interesting offshoot is the development of plasma rifles, that combine a linear accelerator with specially treated uranium slugs, about a millimetre across… the plasma only stays stable for about a twentieth of a second, but by that time it’s been created, fired, and is about three miles away in a steaming hole in someone’s chest cavity. The use of these rifles, coupled with advances in nanotechnology and AI, meant that we could not only design and create new and interesting robots, we could power them, and arm them for use of the armed forces!
ALL: …
ALEX: …you really like science, dontcha?
ZACH: Majored in it. So, wi-
ALEX: You majored in science?
ZACH: Shut up. Anyway. With this new found military might, and cheap power, and
robotics governing just about everything we could think of, we decided to try
to dominate the other spheres of society… economically, we were possibly the
strongest in the world, with the unfortunate incidental problem of having to
import kumquats. Socially, everyone was relatively happy, except the lowest
class. And politically, everyone was scared shitless of us. Or madly in love
with our empress. Thing is, that left nothing more for us to aspire to.
ALL: ….uh?
ZACH: So Flavia turned its efforts to garnering knowledge. We decided to focus on the workings of the human body. And more particularly, the mind…
ALL: …muh? Zorb? Kwarg?
ZACH: Ok, now you’re just taking the piss.
ALL: We’re sorry.
ZACH: Right. We used our new computer technology to create a huge, huge supercomputer, which we nicknamed “The Onmitron”.
CAZ: Why? Why on earth?
ZACH: Do you know how little scientists get out?
CAZ: Touché.
ZACH: Anyway. Millions of pounds were spent on the bloody webcam alone. A whole years R&D budget was allocated to this computer. And, obviously, it crashed horrifically, and sort of auto-destructed.
BG: I can imagine that “doh” doesn’t really cover it?
ZACH: Ohno. Anyway, the funding was cut pretty damn sharpish, and the computer research labs turned into genetics labs. The few remaining computer scientists… well, I say “few”, there were about three hundred left, were stationed on a remote island off the coast of Italy. Because the top brass in the Flavian empire were really quite pissed off at them. They were assigned to research something ridiculous… I think they had to make up a new number, or something…
MATT: Muh?
ZACH: Exactly.
CG: Tell me, can you spell “confusing”?
ZACH: You asked, you get answers. Now be quiet. They weren’t too happy with this new number they had to find, so they decided to carry on with computer research. Only this time, they went in a totally new direction: biological computers.
MATT: And at this point we all just give up. How the hell can you store all
this info in your mind, man?
ZACH: *ignoring* Experiments on a neuro-cerebral linkup system proved successful-
[Alex collapses theatrically, but is ignored, and as such gets up sheepishly.]
ZACH: -and looked to be quite promising. Using this thingy, the computer techs could store information on a mainframe, and have the info sent through the nervous system of a creature to the “CPU”… their brain, basically…
CAZ: So we get some stuff we understand, and it’s vile. Cheers.
ZACH: Yeah. The scientists refined it, and found out that the rest of the body was basically dead weight: all they needed was a spine and brain, the rest could be… disposed of. Of course, using lab animals was all well and good, but stuff like dogs, mice and-
MATT: If you say rabbits now, things will go hard with you.
ZACH: *smoothly* -hippos, whilst cheap, didn’t give the best performance. So, using basic biological skills, they decided on the most advanced and largest brains they could think of… ironic, innit? *grins* Think?
ALL:…
ZACH: Ah, forget it. They, uh, got permission from HQ to use condemned criminals as test subjects for the new biocomputer they were creating… called “Project Lepida”.
CG: You, uh, used human brains in this thing? Live, living, and sentient brains?
ZACH: Yup.
CG: Are you out of your fucking mind?
ZACH: Well, they were gonna be wasted, weren’t they?
CG: Don’t put it like that, you’re making it seem reasonable.
ZACH: Indeed. Project Lepida worked. It worked well. The computer techs were generally applauded, and allowed to go back to working on a real project.
BG: This is, of course, totally forgetting the fact that they were doing illegal experiments on people in a small bunker in Nu-Siberia. Tsch.
ZACH: Yup. Anyway, the techs were allowed more and more freedom to… investigate the complexities of the mind, as that’s what’s the Project was all about. That, and research into other stuff, like various ways of making alloys… I won’t go into that, you’d get bored.
CAZ: Like it’d make a difference…
ZACH: Anyhow. The cities around the main laboratory complex became no-go areas. The new biological computers were highly successful. They were economical, and bloody useful. So the authorities would happily turn a blind eye if someone, say, who was caught breaking into the labs, was used as experiment material.
ALL: Ugh…
ZACH: People would go missing. Countless husbands didn’t return from work… hundreds of kids got lost on the way back from school… people would wake sweating in the middle of the night to the sounds of screams and glass breaking. Anyone who could get away, did. Those who remained were the sick, the poor, the desperate… and the grossly overstaffed Lammusu Research Facility security force.
[There is a shocked silence.]
CG: Jesus…
ZACH: The amounts of biocomputers ballooned. They were used in every single section of the government. The only area that they weren’t used was on the colonies… they weren’t “trustworthy” enough for the Flavians, or “their needs were minor compared to the needs of the homeland”. In reality, it was the sheer greed of the bureaucracy wanting a monopoly on the vile machines keeping this technology from others.
ALL: …. (we’re still bemused…)
ZACH: In retrospect, it was lucky they did. You see, all the biocomputers were connected to one massive network-
MATT: The Internet, then.
ZACH: ….
[Silence.]
ZACH: Yes.
MATT: Righto.
ZACH: And the initial batch of brains used for the system were from condemned criminals. Amongst this lot was a psychopathic killer by the name of Roger Hand, who’d been convicted of attempted genocide when he poisoned the entire water supply of a small offshore island… oh, and he killed a bus full of nuns barehanded. I always thought that that sounded like someone trying to lay on the fact that he was mental, really…
BG: You… uh, used these brains of psychopathic killers in a large network governing almost all of the major functions of your empire?
ZACH: Hell no! You don’t think we’re that stupid, do you? No, no, we buried Rogers brain along with the rest of him after the firing squad did their work. I was just branching off slightly.
BG: Hmm.
ZACH: And we go on.
ALL: *holds face in hands, weeps*
ZACH: Well, we don’t actually know why the brains rebelled… or how. People have theorised that some brains kept their memories and thoughts, despite the introduction of anaesthetising drugs to keep them alive but not thinking. Dunno how.
ALEX: Spot The Plot Hole!
CAZ: And pretentious language.
ZACH: *ignoring* W- they reckon that the brains went insane due to sensory deprivation, and decided to take over the world for something to do.
CG: Natch.
ZACH: So, uh, that’s it. The brain computers took over the entire empire with alarming ease… all our armed forces were neutralised instantly, and the automated systems, and in particular, the robot companies, set about destroying everything. Luckily, the army managed to get the civilian population out before they could be… scourged.
ALEX: ….Scourged?
ZACH: Or harvested… depends on how you like to think of it… *shudders*. How Ms. Susanna Flavia managed to arrange the evacuation of an entire empire that spanned most of Europe and all of Russia in only a few days, I’ll never know… especially without all the mainframes up. I reckon a few biocomputers must have stayed loyal for a bit… possibly the volunteers.
ALL: If that meant anything, we’d say.
ZACH: Almost all the armed forces were killed and... consumed. The technology used to make the humans computers was turned on its head, and was used to make the computers human. Bodied were recycled and used as organic sensory systems, and automated factories created to manufacture huge robot armies… *suddenly bitter* as if the ones they had weren’t enough…
[He is silent for a minute.]
ZACH: Refugees from the oncoming robot hordes crossed the borders of Flavia. A huge international rescue operation was mounted to get them out of the way of the army. Those who could reach the shoreline were removed via boat, some were airlifted… some were taken in huge convoys across Africa as a last resort. Several convoys were intercepted… I… I remember the reports… *trails off*
BG: Uh, Zach?
ZACH: *composes self* Agh.. no, it’s ok… anyway. The decision to eliminate the robots with tactical nuclear strikes was voted for unanimously by the League of Nations… but there was a snag. Missile defense systems. A small team of elite Flavian operatives were chosen… volunteers… for a suicide mission. They were to shut down the anti nuke silos. They were to be dropped right in the middle of the ex-empire. When they’d done their mission, the nukes would be fired. They’d be stranded in a bunker in the middle of thousands of square miles of irradiated wasteland. They hadn’t a chance of surviving… and yet they volunteered…
ALL: *awkward silence*
ZACH: They were successful. Only a few reinforced silos survived the nuclear holocaust. The volunteers were stranded. Poisoned, wounded, dying… no contact with the outside world… they decided that they may as well get going on an escape attempt. They had… maybe three hours before they received a lethal dose of radiation. The electromagnetic interference made it impossible to radio for a helicopter, and the huge amounts of debris kicked up meant that there was no chance of one landing. An impossible situation…
CG: How.. how do you know all this?
ZACH: *staring blankly* And yet some survived. Some survived. No-one knows how. No-one… no-one.
CG: Zach?
[Zach turns to face the silent group, his face contorted.]
ZACH: Nothing could have survived the trek across thousands of miles of scorched earth…
CG: Zach? Zach! Are you alright?
ZACH: Nothing…
[He turns and walks out, his trenchcoat flapping around his legs, his boots clicking on the stone floor of the silent corridor.]
ALL:…
ALEX: And all we asked was “who are you?”.