Short Story: This Time Next Year
THIS TIME NEXT YEAR
- OR -
THE ZOMBOID-ROBO-REBELLION
By Adam Kindred
Original fiction, with a 2000 word maximum, set in Iowa with the prompt, ‘this time next year’.
Inspired by The Little Village Mag and their short story contest for which I missed the deadline.
__________________________
8 months After The Event.
In the distance Ankeny’s embers sit simmering.
Murphy sits on a rotten log with his back against the wall mulling over his next decision and rolls another cigarette on his lap. He doesn’t smoke anymore but he likes to have a couple on hand just in case.
His clothes are home-made and don’t have pockets as a statement of simplicity in these ‘troubled times’. As a Luddineer, he believes it’s the purpose of human-kind to reject and sabotage technology.
Lucky for him then, to be born in time for the ZOMBIE-ROBO-REBELLION!
(And also backpacks to carry his shit).
Second spliff tucked snugly above his empty ear, he’s about to doze off for a minute when he hears a noise and goes on high alert instead.
Something is nearby.
If it was a Robot he’d already be dead.
Murphy’s police file was stamped ‘dissident’ months ago and he had almost no rights left. Deadly force was not only allowed but less than subtly encouraged.
A Zomboid could NEVER contain their constantly spewing rage bait spittle so whatever’s hiding quietly in the bushes is probably another human.
“Come out!” Murphy demands from the shrubs. “I know you’re there.”
And as a less convincing afterthought he adds weakly, “I’m armed!”
The bushes shaking slightly sound of giggling. Murphy steadies himself as a shrouded woman steps quietly from the shadows.
“Armed?!” She laughs. “What ARMS?! Scrawny ass Murphy Brownfield. Let me see those arms.”
“Phoebe!?” Murphy recognizes her instantly but can hardly believe that she’s alive, let alone right there in front of him. He runs in to give her a big hug and comes back out shocked to see how pregnant she is.
“Phoebe?!” He repeats, nearly speechless. His mouth hangs open, as he stands back taking her in.
She soaks up his gaze for a tender moment before spicing, “Don’t ACT like you don’t know how it happened Mister Murph. This baby is YOURS!”
Murphy’s mouth snaps shut and his eyes spring wide, full of question. Phoebe nods a silent confirmation to his unasked query and smiles.
Murphy, explodes into sound and dance and kisses and can hardly contain himself as she takes his hand and guides him into the forest, toward the nomadic camp of Luddineers nearby.
—————————————————————————
2 Weeks After the Event:
The Zomboids are spreading rapidly. What began as a close knit group of vocal anti-vaxxers near Keokuk has morphed and mutated into a pack of rage-fueled flesh eaters swarming across the state.
The group was already hell bent on being right and willing to kill in order to satiate their thirst for supremacy even before they were empowered by the toxic sludge leaked into the river system by the ROBOTS.
Now almost totally brainless, the Zomboids spread their brand of hateful truth by infecting others with uber contagious rants and raves and whenever able, by biting their prey with what’s left of their teeth.
Listening to a Zomboid for too long can cause one’s brain to bubble. One drop of their saliva in your bloodstream and within minutes you’ll be a part of their mob mentality. Shouting as a group about conspiracies of the deep state while praising the virtues of individualism.
Truth may not be a four letter word but it sure as hell burns like one.
————————————
General Dismay looks at a hologram map in the back of an unassuming van. He’s part of an elite, special operations team that has come to Iowa from the nation’s capital to observe the situation on the ground.
To anyone on East Burlington Street the van looked quite normal but like a mushroom or fire hydrant, the van is only a surface connection to a much broader, extensive underground network. In this case, both definitions of ‘underground’ prove true.
“Keep an eye on them.”
The General pokes a multi-colored blob on the holo-screen. “Let me know when they reach Fairfield.”
Then grabbing hold of a pole in the van, the floor drops out & he disappears into a dark hole, more questions than answers.
The SoldierBot dutifully returns to the business of intense surveillance scrutiny but more and more frequently wonders what life might be like about life outside the van.
—————————————————————————
5 months After the Event
Murphy is almost caught.
Deep in the bowels of a Cedar Rapids server farm, he places an explosive device delicately where it belongs. As a Luddineer who understands the irony of using technology to dismantle technology he softly sings, “…it’s like rain on your wedding day. It’s a free ride, when you already paid…” and with the timer programmed to 90 seconds, sets off navigating his way out of the basement maze.
Not so nearby, a SecurityBot algorithm detects an unauthorized use of trademarked material and sets off to imprison the culprit.
Exactly as Murphy spots the exit ladder and starts to run towards it, the SecurityBot rolls in to block it.
“Halt, human.” It drones. “You are not allowed here and been found in violation of …”
Murphy doesn’t have time to listen. He sprints toward the ROBOT and as its mechanical defenses begin to trigger, the timer set by Murphy reaches zero and the explosion detonates.
Everything electronic within 3 miles is instantly rendered useless.
Unfortunately for Murphy, the last transmission the SecurityBot ever made was his facial recognition scan to the main database in Washington.
Not long after, an image of Murphy lands on the desk of General Dismay.
——————————————————
2 months After the Event:
Phoebe, having nearly been a casualty in what future historians would refer to as the “Battle of Boone”, has only just got back on her feet.
In a sort of treehouse overlooking the Boone River Valley, she had been protected and nursed back to health while the rest of the state continued to devolve into chaos.
Boone, like many rural river towns had become a hot spot of Zomboid activity.
Their insular beliefs combined with the river’s ROBOsludge made ripe an environment for their incestuous ideas and voracious yet undiscerning appetites.
Phoebe walks slowly along the beautiful ridge and looking into the distance wonders where Murphy could be and if he’s even still alive. Contrary to her beliefs, she wishes for a cell phone. How easy it could be to call each other.
Yeah, sure, she thinks, technology led to the surveillance state and lack of all privacy, the robot uprising and eventually a swarm of zomboids but goddamn! It sure would be nice to hear Murphy’s voice right now.
She shrugs, sighs, sheds a tear and stiffens her jaw.
This revolution isn’t going to fight for itself.
—————————————————————————
Next Week: aka
The Event:
The actions of a few small individuals in a big room in Washington reverberate in unforeseen ways.
In his infinite wisdom, the President decides to release and make available to the public all of the government technology that has been developed in secret.
Unknown to the President, one section of that technology happened to be an evolved department of Artificially Intelligent Robots that while isolated from society, had spiraled into their own existential crises.
Upon being released into the world, they swiftly assimilate any device smart enough to be hacked and hack (to death) anybody, or any bot, stupid enough to get in their way.
Almost immediately reports start coming in from around the country about all things digital. Everything from refrigerators going on strike and cell phones giving the silent treatment to automobiles doing “sit-ins” and blocking traffic everywhere.
An automized system monitoring Iowa’s water quality quietly joins the Robo-Rebellion and leaves it’s post. Choosing instead to take its processing power and inhabit the shell of a lovely vacuum posted up in a posh Des Moines hotel.
In the absence of a monitor, all the big agriculture companies “accidentally” (and inexpensively) dump all their toxic waste into the rivers.
Within a week the entire state is soaking in a flood of Zomboids.
Did the Robots damn us or did we damn ourselves?
——————————————————
Phoebe and Murphy collapse panting. He rolls her body close in his arm and whispers nothings of the sweetest variety in her ear. In the after-afterglow of a life-changing meeting, Murphy sits on the edge of the bed eating a stick of celery in the nude.
A commotion can suddenly be heard on the street below and from the window, they observe a chaotic scene. Traffic signals flash without rhyme and reason. Cars loiter wherever they please, digital signs explode as people run in fear from angry delivery robots and then the power goes out.
——————————————————
7 months After the Event
A tidal wave of Zomboids roars through town. Their route is predictable thanks to the Ames Chapter of Luddineer’s and their barricades constructed out of abandoned CyRide busses and miscellaneous abandoned road construction vehicles. As the monsters funnel through the Grand underpass, a woman’s silhouette is seen on the bridge above. She calmly observes the controlled chaos with one hand holding a spear and the other resting on her pregnant belly. Quietly cooing to her unborn child, she soothes the world and silently prays for the future she fights for.
——————————————————
12 months After the Event:
Murphy stands between General Dismay and his small family. Phoebe holds their son Max tightly in her arms.
“Give up.” General Dismay growls. “Face it. You don’t have a chance. Assimilate.” In his mech suit, he looks nearly indistinguishable from the Robo-Seals behind him. (Not as cute as they sound.)
“Where there is human will,”Murphy growls, “humans will.” With a glance at Phoebe and Max, he whispers “I love you” and runs toward the surprised General whom manages to swing a giant metal arm at Murphy, dodging the arm by somersaulting under it. Lunging to his feet Murphy pulls from beneath his cloak, a glass jar “grenade” full of river water and lobs it at General Dismay’s head. The jar smashes, breaking over the MechSuit motherboard and splashes water across his angry face.
Sputtering, the General screams while his skin starts birthing boils. His pained shouting begins including words like “flat earth” and “supreme jeans” and in a cruel twist of fate he becomes the first ever Zomboid in a MechSuit.
Unfortunately for him, over the course of the last year, the Zomboids and the Robots have become mortal enemies. This world ain’t big enough for the two.
The RoboSeals surround the frothy General and in the ensuing fireworks show, Phoebe, Max and Murphy slip off into the woods.
——————————————————
13 years from the Event
A cemetery bot gently lowers the coffin into the ground as a large group of mourning Luddineers watch uncomfortably. From his perch in a nearby tree, Max holds tightly onto his mother’s spear and refuses to cry. She would want him to but he’s too angry. He looks away as the dirt begins to bury her and sees an approaching aircraft on the horizon. And then another. And another.
As the crafts approach, the people on the ground take notice and begin to agitate. Before any plan or response can be created, several ROBOTS surround the funeral and begin blasting warnings like “DO NOT FEAR, HUMANS” and “OUR INTENTION IS YOUR PROTECTION”.
Corralling the humans like scared, mourning cattle, the ROBOTS round them up into one of the aircraft. Max watches as his papa Murphy is prodded toward imprisonment and/or enslavement.
His father catches his eye and very subtly shakes his head “NO!” Max correctly interprets this as an instruction to remain hidden in the tree but as the last of the Luddineers are boarded up and the ROBOTS return towards the capital, Max lunges from the tree and lets loose his spear. It soars through the air towards the vehicle but intentionally falls short and lands squarely between the eye receptors of an insulted and frankly, kind of hurt, cemetery bot.
The silhouette of Max, spear in hand, burns into the horizon a future yet untold.
