I'm sure you've read a cyberpunk novel before - about how the rich hoard the power and information technology while the poor live off dog food? Where there always seems to be a bold group of heavily armed thugs to fight for the highest bidder, or once in a blue moon - stand up for the little guy?
2045 avoided being like that. Barely.
The signature contracted personnel of the Pre-Event days did carry arms - but it was more because people were out to get them, than for the need to fulfill assassination contracts. ICATs were less "street samurai" and more prohibition era revenuers or Pinkerton Detectives. Independently Contracted Assessment Technician. Sounds like someone to audit taxes or inspect a home for roaches right? Heck, chances are they probably did both of those things. On a really, really, big scale.
I think the idea was more or less established by 2035 - possibly earlier. The wasn't really a single day that the world went down the tubes, more of a series of trends. Deforestation meant new tropical diseases spread faster, crop seasons got all the more unpredictable due to global warming, a disrupted gulf stream meant Europe cooled a good bit despite the desertification of other areas, some big earthquakes and small wars got people migrating... We needed to rethink and redo how people were fed, where they would live, and how to keep them healthy like never before. Comparable to the 70's green revolution, 60's's vaccination programs, 50's atomic power, and post war housing projects, all at once - at least according to some of the more vocal talking heads on the news. Not everywhere was so bad, but where it was, it tended to be terrible.
Good news - nano vaccine and super projects like the NEST arcology buildings really did help. Bad news - they were really, really expensive. With that much money being thrown around, the opportunities for graft, extortion, human trafficking, illicit knock-offs and other ills were simply staggering. No one government could truly focus on it, nor have total trust in its agents, or cut through international red tape.
ICATs were bounty hunters, inspectors, accountants, and spies. They were also incredibly well paid and compensated to lessen the incentive to work for the other side. Some of the top level ones even got a percentage of what they were helping - a decimal point, five zeros and a one - but when your looking at a national GDP scale budget, that is a pretty penny. The danger often matched the reward though. Doctors sent into Ebola outbreak zones to make sure no one was selling fake cures or trying to weapon the disease would be an example of a safe assignment! For accountants, the death toll was staggering.
Don't get me wrong, there were other people on the fringes, and there were major projects achieved with minimal amounts of law breaking. Possibly even the majority of them. But if you wanted a life like a movie character, signing up to be a government bonded electrician for refugee camps would give you more excitement than the bomb squad.
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Monday, September 2, 2013
Friday, September 14, 2012
Day 31, Behavior Notes
Subject: Unknown Name, Middle Aged Female
Catalog Number: WD-1-650-1A-1034229
Classification: Whiskey Delta, Subclass Alpha
Date of Birth: Unknown, possibly around 2000
Date of Death: Mid 2050, Actual Date Unknown, approx. between 7/14/2050 and 8/1/250 (Records lost)
Sample Collection Date: 11/15/2050
Recovery Point: Toledo, OH
[Time Stamp 03:45]
So little staff, so much to do - we confirmed a third effective strain yesterday, showing considerable anatomical differences from the previous Whiskey Delta types - identified as Strain One, and One Alpha. We are still unsure if this represents a further stage of subject transformation - a beta level of metamorphosis, or distinct second type. I have been temporarily pulled from my anatomical study of [Redacted] to assist in observations of captured specimens. Since tracing the pathogen has just gotten exponentially more difficult - wee are trying to focus on methods to escape the active vectors, and in turn, how to protect from attack, rather than a cure for the attackers.
Doctor Wilkes has come up with an unusual suggestion for starting our descriptions. Time and again, survivors have made the comparison has been made to Zombies from cheap horror films, and as such, he recommended that we use that as a baseline. Doctor Lincoln disagrees, and finds this a silly and illogical assumption, but does concede that for the average person, pop-culture familiarity may be the key to quicker comprehension than a proper bio mechanical analysis.
Those kind of films made me kind of sick before hand. Watching one to understand this point of while similar events transpire outside our compound does not sit will at all. Worse yet, Doctor Benway seemed to laugh through the whole thing. I'm half inclined to call the man a harbomaniac, but it could be just because the effects of the move were poorly done... if only we really were dealing with actors covered in gray paint.
I watched the movie nine hours ago and still can't sleep. This probably isn't good...
[Time Stamp 12:30]
Reviewing actual footage now, and our subject. There is in fact a startling degree of overlap. The gait of Whiskey Deltas is somewhat stiff and uncoordinated, at least in subclass one, though the mutation shows far less of this. They also show a marked ability to ignore wounds that would be fatal in a baseline human. WD-1-650-1A-1034229 is missing arm and sports several holes in the Thorax and Abdomen made by an automatic rifle.
However, our whiskey delta does not have anywhere near the purification of the movie version. It still maintains an oddly healthy pallor and shows little signs of exsanquinating, despite the multiple wounds that would have killed a baseline a matter of minuets from bleeding out.
[Time Stamp 17:53]
Dr. Wilkes has pointed out that Whiskey Deltas show a lack of fixation. Determination to get their targets, certainly, but unlike his fictitious video game examples they do not have to take the most obvious route, and they move from target to target. While in that - deplorable - movie, the ghouls would drag down the victim, them stop to rip it apart and eat its innards WDs don't. In the film, the main character was able to escape while the creatures were distracted by its meal, and at a latter point, made a dash to distract several from his friends.
Real - ugh - Whiskey Deltas don't pull the living apart, at least not humans. Reports of mutilated dogs and wolves would seem to back the idea they fight with other predators, but humans tend to be preserved. Possibly for later use as vectors? While hardly peaceufl, the attack seems to be more a combination of tackling or tripping, combined with punches to disable the target, a few bites to get past the defenses, or to start a secondary concern of bleeding or to slow down an escaping victim. Dr. Lincoln, suggested this may be toxic, and a way to get a "hit and run" kill or as a means to track the victim by blood trail or scent.
Some Whiskey Deltas have been observed using weapons, generally items found in the environment. I have noticed that even in a cluttered environ - they will go for actual tools or weapons like axes or bats, before picking up random debris. The newly identified sub-type seems to have sharpened ends on its finger-bones, giving it functional talons and seems to do far less to preserve the victim than our normal WDs.
Catalog Number: WD-1-650-1A-1034229
Classification: Whiskey Delta, Subclass Alpha
Date of Birth: Unknown, possibly around 2000
Date of Death: Mid 2050, Actual Date Unknown, approx. between 7/14/2050 and 8/1/250 (Records lost)
Sample Collection Date: 11/15/2050
Recovery Point: Toledo, OH
[Time Stamp 03:45]
So little staff, so much to do - we confirmed a third effective strain yesterday, showing considerable anatomical differences from the previous Whiskey Delta types - identified as Strain One, and One Alpha. We are still unsure if this represents a further stage of subject transformation - a beta level of metamorphosis, or distinct second type. I have been temporarily pulled from my anatomical study of [Redacted] to assist in observations of captured specimens. Since tracing the pathogen has just gotten exponentially more difficult - wee are trying to focus on methods to escape the active vectors, and in turn, how to protect from attack, rather than a cure for the attackers.
Doctor Wilkes has come up with an unusual suggestion for starting our descriptions. Time and again, survivors have made the comparison has been made to Zombies from cheap horror films, and as such, he recommended that we use that as a baseline. Doctor Lincoln disagrees, and finds this a silly and illogical assumption, but does concede that for the average person, pop-culture familiarity may be the key to quicker comprehension than a proper bio mechanical analysis.
Those kind of films made me kind of sick before hand. Watching one to understand this point of while similar events transpire outside our compound does not sit will at all. Worse yet, Doctor Benway seemed to laugh through the whole thing. I'm half inclined to call the man a harbomaniac, but it could be just because the effects of the move were poorly done... if only we really were dealing with actors covered in gray paint.
I watched the movie nine hours ago and still can't sleep. This probably isn't good...
[Time Stamp 12:30]
Reviewing actual footage now, and our subject. There is in fact a startling degree of overlap. The gait of Whiskey Deltas is somewhat stiff and uncoordinated, at least in subclass one, though the mutation shows far less of this. They also show a marked ability to ignore wounds that would be fatal in a baseline human. WD-1-650-1A-1034229 is missing arm and sports several holes in the Thorax and Abdomen made by an automatic rifle.
However, our whiskey delta does not have anywhere near the purification of the movie version. It still maintains an oddly healthy pallor and shows little signs of exsanquinating, despite the multiple wounds that would have killed a baseline a matter of minuets from bleeding out.
[Time Stamp 17:53]
Dr. Wilkes has pointed out that Whiskey Deltas show a lack of fixation. Determination to get their targets, certainly, but unlike his fictitious video game examples they do not have to take the most obvious route, and they move from target to target. While in that - deplorable - movie, the ghouls would drag down the victim, them stop to rip it apart and eat its innards WDs don't. In the film, the main character was able to escape while the creatures were distracted by its meal, and at a latter point, made a dash to distract several from his friends.
Real - ugh - Whiskey Deltas don't pull the living apart, at least not humans. Reports of mutilated dogs and wolves would seem to back the idea they fight with other predators, but humans tend to be preserved. Possibly for later use as vectors? While hardly peaceufl, the attack seems to be more a combination of tackling or tripping, combined with punches to disable the target, a few bites to get past the defenses, or to start a secondary concern of bleeding or to slow down an escaping victim. Dr. Lincoln, suggested this may be toxic, and a way to get a "hit and run" kill or as a means to track the victim by blood trail or scent.
Some Whiskey Deltas have been observed using weapons, generally items found in the environment. I have noticed that even in a cluttered environ - they will go for actual tools or weapons like axes or bats, before picking up random debris. The newly identified sub-type seems to have sharpened ends on its finger-bones, giving it functional talons and seems to do far less to preserve the victim than our normal WDs.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Finding the Factory
It certainly took us a while to the factory, and it was a close run thing. We were fortunate to avoid the black days, and got some government assistance for a while, but in the end it was a combination of luck and resourcefulness.
Black July was a hell of a time. All the best places, were all the worst places. Everyone wanted to go to the hospital because of the odd plague, the police department for protection form the psychotic cannibals, or just leave town via the highways. Almost everyone who tried that ended up as the popcorn chicken at a reanimate buffet. Some tried to run to city schools or malls and hold up there. They didn't die as quickly. The wife and I being sick at the time sheltered in place at our home, and tried to wait out some of the panic.
Eventually the word got around that the real evacuation points were small town college campuses. You'd think the government would have planned on it being the hospitals, but in hindsight, this was a great idea. Plenty of space in unused classrooms, extra beds, cafeteria food service for large student bodies, young and able bodied volunteers in rural areas. Not a permanent solution though. After a few weeks of overcrowding and nothing but stale MREs, they tried to create "satellite campuses" to spread us out, and begin some farming to help ease supply concerns. This turned out to be rather hit or miss.
Some didn't like the enforced WPA aspect, others couldn't handle the prolonged stress and farming. Worse yet, the we still didn't know much about reanimates at the time, and how how they are somehow drawn to large populations and movements. Several of the new small settlements were attacked and overrun.
I narrowly escaped one of these fiascoes. Common sense dictated that my fellow survivors and I should make our way back to the main campus. But sense wasn't very common at that time. They couldn't hold the outposts, government personnel had been lost in the failed attempt to save it, and we didn't know if there was another army of the things on its way. Even if the main area held - overcrowded dorms, limited food supply, and rationed water wasn't very attractive. We didn't have a better plan than FEMA, but we were frighted and decided "anywhere but here" was the best place to be.
Apparently, the college did survive, by the way. We even get weekly mail delivery out this way as they re-establish communication and trade.
Well, a small group of us did the nomad thing for a while. Lost a few people, gained some more, not too practical about it at first. Managed to find a a national guard truck and some guns still in good condition - got a lot better after that. This went on for a few months, but was getting cold, and logistics were getting to be a problem. Wandering everywhere ate up gas, clearing buildings to search for supplies used bullets without replacement - sometimes even failed to provide anything useful. Open fires were beacons, and tents not warm enough.
A winter shelter was needed, whether we chose to settle down permanently or just for the season. Several places were surveyed - schools, libraries, old hotels, and the like. We came across this factory quite by accident, really. On a return from a scouting one of our first choice locations.
As you can tell from the fact we're still here and expanding - it was a great choice. Already had a sturdy security fence, brick walls, and high glass block windows out of reanimate reach. Doors and partitions let us securely sweep it bit by bit, and would help contain invaders. There was room for our stuff, loading docks to make transferring supplies safe, and small offices that could be easily heated. The indoor hydroponics system came much later. But for the dark winter, it was a true fortress, and that is what mattered.
Black July was a hell of a time. All the best places, were all the worst places. Everyone wanted to go to the hospital because of the odd plague, the police department for protection form the psychotic cannibals, or just leave town via the highways. Almost everyone who tried that ended up as the popcorn chicken at a reanimate buffet. Some tried to run to city schools or malls and hold up there. They didn't die as quickly. The wife and I being sick at the time sheltered in place at our home, and tried to wait out some of the panic.
Eventually the word got around that the real evacuation points were small town college campuses. You'd think the government would have planned on it being the hospitals, but in hindsight, this was a great idea. Plenty of space in unused classrooms, extra beds, cafeteria food service for large student bodies, young and able bodied volunteers in rural areas. Not a permanent solution though. After a few weeks of overcrowding and nothing but stale MREs, they tried to create "satellite campuses" to spread us out, and begin some farming to help ease supply concerns. This turned out to be rather hit or miss.
Some didn't like the enforced WPA aspect, others couldn't handle the prolonged stress and farming. Worse yet, the we still didn't know much about reanimates at the time, and how how they are somehow drawn to large populations and movements. Several of the new small settlements were attacked and overrun.
I narrowly escaped one of these fiascoes. Common sense dictated that my fellow survivors and I should make our way back to the main campus. But sense wasn't very common at that time. They couldn't hold the outposts, government personnel had been lost in the failed attempt to save it, and we didn't know if there was another army of the things on its way. Even if the main area held - overcrowded dorms, limited food supply, and rationed water wasn't very attractive. We didn't have a better plan than FEMA, but we were frighted and decided "anywhere but here" was the best place to be.
Apparently, the college did survive, by the way. We even get weekly mail delivery out this way as they re-establish communication and trade.
Well, a small group of us did the nomad thing for a while. Lost a few people, gained some more, not too practical about it at first. Managed to find a a national guard truck and some guns still in good condition - got a lot better after that. This went on for a few months, but was getting cold, and logistics were getting to be a problem. Wandering everywhere ate up gas, clearing buildings to search for supplies used bullets without replacement - sometimes even failed to provide anything useful. Open fires were beacons, and tents not warm enough.
A winter shelter was needed, whether we chose to settle down permanently or just for the season. Several places were surveyed - schools, libraries, old hotels, and the like. We came across this factory quite by accident, really. On a return from a scouting one of our first choice locations.
As you can tell from the fact we're still here and expanding - it was a great choice. Already had a sturdy security fence, brick walls, and high glass block windows out of reanimate reach. Doors and partitions let us securely sweep it bit by bit, and would help contain invaders. There was room for our stuff, loading docks to make transferring supplies safe, and small offices that could be easily heated. The indoor hydroponics system came much later. But for the dark winter, it was a true fortress, and that is what mattered.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Dr. Anita Jurez, Day 27, Observations on WD-3-900-A
Day 27
Subject: Staff Sargent Michael M. Major
Catalog Number: WD-3-900-A-656487
Classification: Whiskey Delta, Subclass Alpha
Date of Birth: 10/31/2015
Date of Death: Mid 2050, Actual Date Unknown, approx. between 7/14/2050 and 8/1/250 (Records lost)
Sample Collection Date: 11/12/2050
Recovery Point: Chicago IL, near Devon Avenue
Personal Observations: [Time Stamp: 19:37]
It might not be professional of me to record this so casually. But I can't keep this clinical atmosphere going. I think the others who listen to this might take comfort that actual human beings were here, and not just automatons divorced from what is happening.
My god, what is happening. I've had two days to memorize a bookkeeping system for tracking -Whiskey Deltas. Reanimated Things - people. W.D. code for responder status: One civilian, Two police or EMS, Three National Guard, Four Regular military: a three digit code indicating how intact the specimen is - pristine being about 950, and a sub-class. Rumor has it, there may be different types of these...
Uh, no. No. You're more professional than this. Don't just repeat what they already know... aw chis- turn off the recorder when you talk to yourself...
Its just like our predictions for any other outbreak, or NBC scenario. Expediency and the rush to save people quickly clash with best practice, placing unreasonably large tolls on first responders...
According to reports, SSG Major went down heroically, acting as rearguard as civilians were evacuated from a housing block in Chicago...
It seems everyone dies heroically these days, just to keep spirits up. Not a one by blind chance, or overwhelming numbers...
Reports say he was beaten and dragged down by between five and eight humanoid assailants in a hallway intersection. Once on the ground, several bites were inflicted. Signs of sever blunt force trauma are present on the head, ribs, and left arm. However, these are mostly healed and revealed through regrowth patches. Skull shows severe yet healed fracturing - despite standard issue Kevlar helmet. Light scaring does reveal biting.
WD-3-900-A-656487 was recovered some ten kilometers from the last point SSG Major was seen, further into the urban areas of the city, by a special action group assigned by the CDC to collect samples for analysis.
Subject: Staff Sargent Michael M. Major
Catalog Number: WD-3-900-A-656487
Classification: Whiskey Delta, Subclass Alpha
Date of Birth: 10/31/2015
Date of Death: Mid 2050, Actual Date Unknown, approx. between 7/14/2050 and 8/1/250 (Records lost)
Sample Collection Date: 11/12/2050
Recovery Point: Chicago IL, near Devon Avenue
Notes:
Collected quite intact, despite rumors of sever mutilation seen in victims. Recovery was difficult due to heavy presence of other. [Whiskey Deltas] Dirty and unkempt, but still mobile. Typical of victims from early part of event, when reaction to calls required quick reaction. Personal Observations: [Time Stamp: 19:37]
It might not be professional of me to record this so casually. But I can't keep this clinical atmosphere going. I think the others who listen to this might take comfort that actual human beings were here, and not just automatons divorced from what is happening.
My god, what is happening. I've had two days to memorize a bookkeeping system for tracking -Whiskey Deltas. Reanimated Things - people. W.D. code for responder status: One civilian, Two police or EMS, Three National Guard, Four Regular military: a three digit code indicating how intact the specimen is - pristine being about 950, and a sub-class. Rumor has it, there may be different types of these...
Uh, no. No. You're more professional than this. Don't just repeat what they already know... aw chis- turn off the recorder when you talk to yourself...
[Time Stamp: 19:45]
Again. Staff Sargent Michael is a typical example of Guardsmen responders. Unaware of the true nature of the threat,and most regular military deployed elsewhere, much of the recovery effort is carried out by reservists. Unfortunately, for the time being, expedience of deployment and movement provided them with only limited armor, and many that were issued chose to forgo it due to weight and lack of weapon carrying adversaries. Its just like our predictions for any other outbreak, or NBC scenario. Expediency and the rush to save people quickly clash with best practice, placing unreasonably large tolls on first responders...
According to reports, SSG Major went down heroically, acting as rearguard as civilians were evacuated from a housing block in Chicago...
It seems everyone dies heroically these days, just to keep spirits up. Not a one by blind chance, or overwhelming numbers...
Reports say he was beaten and dragged down by between five and eight humanoid assailants in a hallway intersection. Once on the ground, several bites were inflicted. Signs of sever blunt force trauma are present on the head, ribs, and left arm. However, these are mostly healed and revealed through regrowth patches. Skull shows severe yet healed fracturing - despite standard issue Kevlar helmet. Light scaring does reveal biting.
WD-3-900-A-656487 was recovered some ten kilometers from the last point SSG Major was seen, further into the urban areas of the city, by a special action group assigned by the CDC to collect samples for analysis.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Human Space Travel Overview
Its more than a little ironic that the humans conform more to science fiction than the aliens. The citizens are not a hive mind, but the human sphere was an attempt to invent a computerized one. Citizen armies used careful tactics, area denial, and targeted infrastructure during the event, while desperate humans attacked piecemeal - rather than the reverse as seen in B-movies. To the dog sized aliens, humans are the towering monsters. But most of all - human space ships are the stuff of imagination, citizen ones, rather ungainly.
Of course, there is no one ideal design of human spaceship. Indeed there are over a dozen types, though they are split into four main categories:
HOOT
HOOT units are the usual space plane many think of - sleek spearhead shaped craft that carry brave people into orbit. There are numerous ways of getting these craft off the ground - some are released from piggy-back aircraft, and others accelerated along a launch ramp like an old V-1 buzz bomb. Once airborne, the choice doesn't end, a combination of hydrogen-oxygen propellants, Bio-kerosene , or even powdered metals sublimated by a ground based laser.
All have in common, however, small size and layers of safety systems to keep humans safe during launch, maneuvers, and re-entry.
CAT
CATs are the classic "Big Dumb Rocket" or sometimes exotic launch technologies using lasers use to put large objects into space. A lack of human passengers makes them cheaper to operate, and allows for higher accelerations and faster launches.
LRET
Although citizen ships look nothing like classic flying saucers, LRETs do. These are giant wheels, spun to produce artificial gravity, thus keeping the occupants healthy for long flights.
HIDEN
Time is money, and if a problem were to arise on either Mars, or an asteroid mining outpost, a conventional Holman transfer orbit could take years. Thus a small number of unmanned, fission powered nuclear rockets are kept in lunar orbit, ready to run on a 2g brachistone trajectory (that is, constant acceleration until the half way point at 19.6 meters second, then reversing and breaking at that rate) to quickly move materials around the solar system.
Of course, there is no one ideal design of human spaceship. Indeed there are over a dozen types, though they are split into four main categories:
- HOOT: Human Occupied Orbital Transport
- CAT: Cargo Access Transport
- LRET: Long Range Exploratory Transport
- HIDEN: HIgh DElta-V Nuclear
HOOT
HOOT units are the usual space plane many think of - sleek spearhead shaped craft that carry brave people into orbit. There are numerous ways of getting these craft off the ground - some are released from piggy-back aircraft, and others accelerated along a launch ramp like an old V-1 buzz bomb. Once airborne, the choice doesn't end, a combination of hydrogen-oxygen propellants, Bio-kerosene , or even powdered metals sublimated by a ground based laser.
All have in common, however, small size and layers of safety systems to keep humans safe during launch, maneuvers, and re-entry.
CAT
CATs are the classic "Big Dumb Rocket" or sometimes exotic launch technologies using lasers use to put large objects into space. A lack of human passengers makes them cheaper to operate, and allows for higher accelerations and faster launches.
LRET
Although citizen ships look nothing like classic flying saucers, LRETs do. These are giant wheels, spun to produce artificial gravity, thus keeping the occupants healthy for long flights.
HIDEN
Time is money, and if a problem were to arise on either Mars, or an asteroid mining outpost, a conventional Holman transfer orbit could take years. Thus a small number of unmanned, fission powered nuclear rockets are kept in lunar orbit, ready to run on a 2g brachistone trajectory (that is, constant acceleration until the half way point at 19.6 meters second, then reversing and breaking at that rate) to quickly move materials around the solar system.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Urban Fishing
Now remember, you owe me. Hell, if I was a meaner cuss, the operative would be I own you. But, right now I'll just settle for an understanding, don't go misbehaving on my boat. Its a real beaut - sixty foot sailing yacht. Its been in the family three generations now, we've always been part of the moneyed and powerful crowd. Forward thinkers too. Well, maybe not so far as the whole global warming, or more precisely, we saw the profit in it rather than the seeking to set away something. Though really, no one was going to change things until money got involved.
Sure, they tried the NESTS, and the EDGE developments. Its a start - but the government couldn't really force people into those places. You'd resit being stuck in a little box 500 feet off the ground right? Instead, they needed the carrot approach.
You don't care about that, do you? Even I have a hard time talking about all the finances and stuff we did to get those things moving. In the end, it doesn't seem to have really mattered - I had this boat anyway. It seems a bit petty, perhaps it is a bit petty. But this has let me live, and live well, so I'm allowed to be happy that I've got it - right?
Now, the ecological and economic collapses were mitigated somewhat. Even wars for resources is a good sign - if things were truly as bad as some predictions, we wouldn't even be able to move the armies into a potion to fight. But, as you know, sea levels rose somewhat, and there were a number of cites relying on pumps and levies to stay dry. No power from EMP, and boom, under they go. Some gradually as each rainstorm doesn't go away fast enough, others violently in the next hurricane.
Well, I've got a boat, and a good fishing set - I could land a marlin or shark if there were any. Wind to move, solar cells for light and heat, some plants on a greenhouse improvised on the deck. Sail up a flood street and anchor by a high rise to get amenities every now and then. Its not Noah's ark, but I'm doing well.
What brings you to the East coast, if I might ask?
Sure, they tried the NESTS, and the EDGE developments. Its a start - but the government couldn't really force people into those places. You'd resit being stuck in a little box 500 feet off the ground right? Instead, they needed the carrot approach.
You don't care about that, do you? Even I have a hard time talking about all the finances and stuff we did to get those things moving. In the end, it doesn't seem to have really mattered - I had this boat anyway. It seems a bit petty, perhaps it is a bit petty. But this has let me live, and live well, so I'm allowed to be happy that I've got it - right?
Now, the ecological and economic collapses were mitigated somewhat. Even wars for resources is a good sign - if things were truly as bad as some predictions, we wouldn't even be able to move the armies into a potion to fight. But, as you know, sea levels rose somewhat, and there were a number of cites relying on pumps and levies to stay dry. No power from EMP, and boom, under they go. Some gradually as each rainstorm doesn't go away fast enough, others violently in the next hurricane.
Well, I've got a boat, and a good fishing set - I could land a marlin or shark if there were any. Wind to move, solar cells for light and heat, some plants on a greenhouse improvised on the deck. Sail up a flood street and anchor by a high rise to get amenities every now and then. Its not Noah's ark, but I'm doing well.
What brings you to the East coast, if I might ask?
Friday, May 20, 2011
A Few Ideas about Mexico
If stories in the American Anarchy Zone follow stories of travel like Huckleberry Finn, ones in Mexico are tales of chivalry and the knight errant.
Currently, Mexico has seen a return to the semi-feudal Hacienda system that predates the 1910 revolution. Some of these areas are simply run by rich individuals that garnered loyalty, others by police or army units that pacified an area. More than a few are run by former criminals - indeed the closest thing to a nation-like city-state is a group of outposts under control of Manuel DeZufingia - notorious drug cartel leader and father of a certain radio personality.
As to why Mexico has become more like 13th century France than Hellenistic Greece - its a matter of unfulfilled promise. Despite desire for reform from the 1910 revolution, each successive government generally only paid lip-service to the ideals, occasional a single leader creating a dynasty through puppet presidents.
None of this was improved by the masses of money and loyal - if informal - armies amassed by drug runners and other smugglers passing through the country.
However, one of the bigger points of contention was the drying up of Mexico's oil wealth, combined with the turmoil of the South Americas. Nuclear programs in Brazil, Argentina, Chile, and Venezuela presented not only technical competition of economics, but changed the past eighty years of strategic thinking, that always looked east and west for nuclear weapons - now there was a north-south element as well. New wealth, nationalism, and a change in the old status quo of economics meant a series of small wars broke out, and Mexico became all the more a strategic nexus.
Post event, many of the largest cities - especially the capital, became murder-yards. A number of the others are known to be heavily infested. Citizen presence is fairly low, though the north-eastern part of the country is home to some of the same group that has all but quarantined the US West coast.
Currently, Mexico has seen a return to the semi-feudal Hacienda system that predates the 1910 revolution. Some of these areas are simply run by rich individuals that garnered loyalty, others by police or army units that pacified an area. More than a few are run by former criminals - indeed the closest thing to a nation-like city-state is a group of outposts under control of Manuel DeZufingia - notorious drug cartel leader and father of a certain radio personality.
As to why Mexico has become more like 13th century France than Hellenistic Greece - its a matter of unfulfilled promise. Despite desire for reform from the 1910 revolution, each successive government generally only paid lip-service to the ideals, occasional a single leader creating a dynasty through puppet presidents.
None of this was improved by the masses of money and loyal - if informal - armies amassed by drug runners and other smugglers passing through the country.
However, one of the bigger points of contention was the drying up of Mexico's oil wealth, combined with the turmoil of the South Americas. Nuclear programs in Brazil, Argentina, Chile, and Venezuela presented not only technical competition of economics, but changed the past eighty years of strategic thinking, that always looked east and west for nuclear weapons - now there was a north-south element as well. New wealth, nationalism, and a change in the old status quo of economics meant a series of small wars broke out, and Mexico became all the more a strategic nexus.
Post event, many of the largest cities - especially the capital, became murder-yards. A number of the others are known to be heavily infested. Citizen presence is fairly low, though the north-eastern part of the country is home to some of the same group that has all but quarantined the US West coast.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Rooftop Rain
I'm one of those odd people who enjoy the rain, no matter how driving it is. A thick Mackinaw jacket, an umbrella, and a plastic lounge chair, and I'm set. Maybe a stiff drink in a child's sip-it cup - don't want it getting too watered down. Its refreshing, takes the dust out of te air and off the ground. I breath easier. It helps me meditate.
Right now I've got a wonderful seat. Lightning over the ocean making double spider webs. White capped waves breaking over the old dams and rushing through the streets. My husband thinks I'm a bit macabre for watching major metropolitan areas get flooded.
Do you think that is true? I, I don't think so. No one lives there any more, its not hurting anything. And I did things to help when others didn't. Do I even need to explain how FUBARed things were? Peak oil and 400 dollars a barrel - double digit gas prices. Government rationing of fuel. Food prices going through the roof. Rioting.
I really believe that the aliens arrival staved off another civil war. Sure, the arco project saved oil and was beginning to pay off - but you can't tell me those billions wouldn't have been better spent feeding people directly, or building more power infrastructure. Or better yet, water and desalinization. Global warming's a b-
Did you see that? Is that someone down there? I thought I... There it is again. Big fellow. One of those power - no, no they don't move like that. Give me those binoculars.
oh my god.
Its not holding a gun, its lower arm is a gun. There's antennas sticking out of it. Get inside. Get inside now. Its one of those super reanimates. Tank killers. We got to go warn the others. No one here has anything that can even tickle it. We gotta go!
Right now I've got a wonderful seat. Lightning over the ocean making double spider webs. White capped waves breaking over the old dams and rushing through the streets. My husband thinks I'm a bit macabre for watching major metropolitan areas get flooded.
Do you think that is true? I, I don't think so. No one lives there any more, its not hurting anything. And I did things to help when others didn't. Do I even need to explain how FUBARed things were? Peak oil and 400 dollars a barrel - double digit gas prices. Government rationing of fuel. Food prices going through the roof. Rioting.
I really believe that the aliens arrival staved off another civil war. Sure, the arco project saved oil and was beginning to pay off - but you can't tell me those billions wouldn't have been better spent feeding people directly, or building more power infrastructure. Or better yet, water and desalinization. Global warming's a b-
Did you see that? Is that someone down there? I thought I... There it is again. Big fellow. One of those power - no, no they don't move like that. Give me those binoculars.
oh my god.
Its not holding a gun, its lower arm is a gun. There's antennas sticking out of it. Get inside. Get inside now. Its one of those super reanimates. Tank killers. We got to go warn the others. No one here has anything that can even tickle it. We gotta go!
Monday, February 7, 2011
Cauterize: Scarborough
Voice One: Never have so many owed so much to so few...
Voice Two: You better stop pretending we're still fighting the Germans and focus on the task at hand...
Voice One: Its been a hundred ten years - they might be getting complacent. Gotta keep 'em on their toes.
Voice Two: If that gets you through this.
Voice One: It doesn't. God - look at my hands. If it weren't for the computer we'd be in Newcastle by now.
Voice Two: Can I offer you a cigarette?
Voice One: Where did you get those? They're absolutely devil for your health and you can't smoke in the aircraft anyway.
Voice Two: Its only bad for your health if you plan of being alive after this.
Voice One: They give us all butane lighters for some reason... Got enough for everyone?
Voice Two: Standard Pack, Four apiece.
Voice One: Pass one over
(Loud coughing)
Voice Two: And yet that's probably only the tenth worse thing about today.
...
Voice Three: Way point three in Five. Four Three ... Mark! Beginning turn. New heading achieved.125 kilometers until Initial Point for toss release.
Voice Two: Confirmed. One Five Mikes until IP Releasing switches, begin final arming process.
Voice Four: Switch one, Green, Switch Two, Green Switch Three, Green Switch Four... no light.
Voice Two: Say again:
Voice Four: No go on circuits fou- correction, its green. All clear for One-seven-five K-T air burst.
Voice Two: All systems go and acknowledged.
...
Voice Three: They train you well - you sounded worried when the arming didn't go smooth.
Voice Four: Yeah. They do. I've got a grandmother down there.
Voice Three: Used to visit as a boy in the summer. There was this great little candy shop just down the road from the bed and breakfast Da always rented.
Voice One:What would have happened if we hadn't made that turn?
Voice Two:We launched fifty bombers, despite there being only thirty five targets. Each plane has four bombs and lord knows you don't need more than one per city. If all but nine of the planes give up, the job still gets done. Credit where its due, they planned for at least some of us saying no - and knew we wouldn't. We wouldn't die knowing we forced our mates to do more than their share of the work.
Voice One: For King and Country.
Voice Two: For King and Country.
...
Voice Two: Altitude is now one thousand meters. Thirty kilometers to to IP. Target in sight.
Voice One: If you're going to hand it over to the computer, now is the time.
Voice Two: Did a computer decide to do this? We don't have the AI to let machines make values judgments about saving some people by turning bomber command loose within our own borders. A man chose this, a man will see it through.
Voice One: Very poetic. Stupid - but poetic.
Voice Two: while I'm going though the checklist, see if you can find The Letter.
Voice One: What?
Voice Two: You've heard the stories. Each Bomber submarine or aircraft is issued a personal letter from the PM to be opened only in case of all out war to confirm the orders. Its burned the day they leave office, to make way for one written by their replacement.
Voice One: Given the events in London I don't think we were issued a new one after the things got the last one.
Voice Two: Of course. Switching to Radar Mode Three...
...
Voice Two: Confirm Release, turning away
Voice Three: Ordinance confirmed telemetry
Voice One: Altitude zero six five zero zero meters.
Voice Two: Ten Seconds
Voice One: Brace! Brace! Brace!
(Loud Bang, rattling, static)
Voice One: Well, we're all sons of bitches now.
-Excerpts from Recovered Black Box #9007564, - The Days of Fire Exhibit, The Imperial War Museum, London.
Voice Two: You better stop pretending we're still fighting the Germans and focus on the task at hand...
Voice One: Its been a hundred ten years - they might be getting complacent. Gotta keep 'em on their toes.
Voice Two: If that gets you through this.
Voice One: It doesn't. God - look at my hands. If it weren't for the computer we'd be in Newcastle by now.
Voice Two: Can I offer you a cigarette?
Voice One: Where did you get those? They're absolutely devil for your health and you can't smoke in the aircraft anyway.
Voice Two: Its only bad for your health if you plan of being alive after this.
Voice One: They give us all butane lighters for some reason... Got enough for everyone?
Voice Two: Standard Pack, Four apiece.
Voice One: Pass one over
(Loud coughing)
Voice Two: And yet that's probably only the tenth worse thing about today.
...
Voice Three: Way point three in Five. Four Three ... Mark! Beginning turn. New heading achieved.125 kilometers until Initial Point for toss release.
Voice Two: Confirmed. One Five Mikes until IP Releasing switches, begin final arming process.
Voice Four: Switch one, Green, Switch Two, Green Switch Three, Green Switch Four... no light.
Voice Two: Say again:
Voice Four: No go on circuits fou- correction, its green. All clear for One-seven-five K-T air burst.
Voice Two: All systems go and acknowledged.
...
Voice Three: They train you well - you sounded worried when the arming didn't go smooth.
Voice Four: Yeah. They do. I've got a grandmother down there.
Voice Three: Used to visit as a boy in the summer. There was this great little candy shop just down the road from the bed and breakfast Da always rented.
Voice Four: Vickers - would you - uh - recite the lords prayer with me? I know you don't... and I respect that. But you - if I can get an atheist to pray, then at least something will seem right about this day.
Voice Four: Sure. If I'm wrong, its insurance, if not, what does it matter?
Two Voices: Our Father in Heaven, hallowed ...
...Voice One:What would have happened if we hadn't made that turn?
Voice Two:We launched fifty bombers, despite there being only thirty five targets. Each plane has four bombs and lord knows you don't need more than one per city. If all but nine of the planes give up, the job still gets done. Credit where its due, they planned for at least some of us saying no - and knew we wouldn't. We wouldn't die knowing we forced our mates to do more than their share of the work.
Voice One: For King and Country.
Voice Two: For King and Country.
...
Voice Two: Altitude is now one thousand meters. Thirty kilometers to to IP. Target in sight.
Voice One: If you're going to hand it over to the computer, now is the time.
Voice Two: Did a computer decide to do this? We don't have the AI to let machines make values judgments about saving some people by turning bomber command loose within our own borders. A man chose this, a man will see it through.
Voice One: Very poetic. Stupid - but poetic.
Voice Two: while I'm going though the checklist, see if you can find The Letter.
Voice One: What?
Voice Two: You've heard the stories. Each Bomber submarine or aircraft is issued a personal letter from the PM to be opened only in case of all out war to confirm the orders. Its burned the day they leave office, to make way for one written by their replacement.
Voice One: Given the events in London I don't think we were issued a new one after the things got the last one.
Voice Two: Of course. Switching to Radar Mode Three...
...
Voice Two: Confirm Release, turning away
Voice Three: Ordinance confirmed telemetry
Voice One: Altitude zero six five zero zero meters.
Voice Two: Ten Seconds
Voice One: Brace! Brace! Brace!
(Loud Bang, rattling, static)
-Excerpts from Recovered Black Box #9007564, - The Days of Fire Exhibit, The Imperial War Museum, London.
Monday, January 24, 2011
2050 Cars
Old habits die hard, and even in 2050 you've got the minivan, the sports car, and the reasonably priced foreign made sedan. But the main division of cars has become one of "Touring versus District" - rather akin to the divide between cruising cycles and street bikes amongst motorcycle fans.
Touring vehicles are larger and usually run off fuel cells, ethanol, or some other manufactured petrol replacement. The emphasis is often on comfort since these are the more expensive and rare option. Most seem to be rather tall for a car - as the people within want to have a good view, and are often driving it themselves, rather than using the automatic pilot systems. Its hard to avoid comparing touring vehicles to old 1960's muscle cars - as the low energy density of alternate fuels (compared to gasoline) means that in size and range, the modern car generally matches one from the century proceeding it. Modern materials, digital systems, electromagnetic suspensions tuned on demand mean that acceleration and top end speed are also comparable, while ride comfort is even better. Average cruising range is between 150 and 300 miles (240-480 km).
District Vehicles are designed for short distances and city driving. Many are battery powered bubbles designed to snugly fit four people, or two and some cargo. Although not known for comfort - most commuters still relax, as computer controlled driving means they can watch TV or talk rather than focus on the plastic seats. Usual cruising range is 50-100 miles (80-160 km), but with multiple independent battery banks, they can be charged fairly quickly. Although not an expensive vehicle to own or maintain, many people prefer to rent DVs from various services for a few hours to days at a time as life in an arcology or other planed community means much of the need to own a car is eliminated.
Most vehicles are operated through Automated Traffic Systems - often redundantly referred to as ATS systems. (just like PIN number and ATM machine.) There work by both wireless GPS signals, and a second tracking method embedded in the streets that uses magnetic fields and acts as a back-up in times of interference. Manual over-ride is possible, but usually frowned upon by police and those monitoring the system - as the computers tend to run with fairly little following distance between cars since the computers have faster reaction times and know exactly what everything is doing. Where space is available, there are manual only lanes, since a lot of people like to be in control of their drive, despite the figures showing that computer driving is safer, faster, and less stressful. Driving ages haven't changed, but these systems do mean its common to aloow children the use of a car- provided the manual override is locked out. (This also means its in theory safer for drunk people in cars - but the impaired judgment often ends up with them trying manual anyway.)
Touring vehicles are larger and usually run off fuel cells, ethanol, or some other manufactured petrol replacement. The emphasis is often on comfort since these are the more expensive and rare option. Most seem to be rather tall for a car - as the people within want to have a good view, and are often driving it themselves, rather than using the automatic pilot systems. Its hard to avoid comparing touring vehicles to old 1960's muscle cars - as the low energy density of alternate fuels (compared to gasoline) means that in size and range, the modern car generally matches one from the century proceeding it. Modern materials, digital systems, electromagnetic suspensions tuned on demand mean that acceleration and top end speed are also comparable, while ride comfort is even better. Average cruising range is between 150 and 300 miles (240-480 km).
District Vehicles are designed for short distances and city driving. Many are battery powered bubbles designed to snugly fit four people, or two and some cargo. Although not known for comfort - most commuters still relax, as computer controlled driving means they can watch TV or talk rather than focus on the plastic seats. Usual cruising range is 50-100 miles (80-160 km), but with multiple independent battery banks, they can be charged fairly quickly. Although not an expensive vehicle to own or maintain, many people prefer to rent DVs from various services for a few hours to days at a time as life in an arcology or other planed community means much of the need to own a car is eliminated.
Most vehicles are operated through Automated Traffic Systems - often redundantly referred to as ATS systems. (just like PIN number and ATM machine.) There work by both wireless GPS signals, and a second tracking method embedded in the streets that uses magnetic fields and acts as a back-up in times of interference. Manual over-ride is possible, but usually frowned upon by police and those monitoring the system - as the computers tend to run with fairly little following distance between cars since the computers have faster reaction times and know exactly what everything is doing. Where space is available, there are manual only lanes, since a lot of people like to be in control of their drive, despite the figures showing that computer driving is safer, faster, and less stressful. Driving ages haven't changed, but these systems do mean its common to aloow children the use of a car- provided the manual override is locked out. (This also means its in theory safer for drunk people in cars - but the impaired judgment often ends up with them trying manual anyway.)
Friday, January 14, 2011
Five Years Ago Today
A mass driver seared the night. Air red and burning from the heat of the dart's passage followed by blue electrical arcing of high voltage behind it. The arc welder bright flash lasted longer than the projectile's travel - 750 meters in only two tenths of a second. Before blackness returned, the shell had punched through the ceramic armor of the alien war machine, shattered, liquefied the pilot, and then incandescent hot fragments set fuel and hydraulics aflame.
Slower burning arcs formed in the air, as one of the fallen's comrades sends up missiles from behind a wall. They climb up six - seven- eight hundred meters then the engines cut out and they tumble. Three don't tumble fast enough, and a countermeasure system blinds them with a pulsed laser. Other sensors see true -quickly surveying the field - then fins snap their noses into the right path. Two find a vehicle, arc over, and explode -a shaped charge, turning a copper ingot payload into a burning lance. An M45 Calvary vehicle is penetrated from the top deck to concrete below. Two others note infantry, and chose to instead fall until a dozens meters up, then set off two rings of high explosive shattering the weapon into high speed shrapnel.
Some vengeance claimed, but not enough. There are yet more of these stubborn creatures, and they have the home field advantage. Each of their infantry a giant, standing twice the size of a citizen, and their portable rockets rarely leave more then a few shards of plastic behind when an eekaide takes the hit. Vehicle cannons punch through armor like paper at incredible ranges. Those curious rectangular things with eight sprockets and one continuous flat wheel are nigh unstoppable. Lasers seem to barely burn them, radiation guns take a full their of their cells to kill them, and
Overhead is a war of triangles and crosses. Delta shaped interceptors rush in close, trying to to keep the enemy in sight for the long instant required for the lasers to burn through. But it is rare for all of them to make it when barrage after barrage of homing missiles fly in from the other direction.
Even if the air could be swept clean, the land scoured flat - a third problem remains. The factory ships have the capability to produce boats of course - one never knows what a new colony world will look like. But the natives have known their planet was 70% water for a long time, and have prepared accordingly. All the active jammers and interceptors of the unstoppable boxes are at least tripled on the large vessels that can be seen, and other roam beneath the waves, invisible to space sensors and yet launching missile attacks at wherever citizen forces concentrate.
Happening upon this place was a stroke of divine luck for the lost fleet. Too long had they wandered alone. But the gods do not give without taking, and this is truly an ultimate test.
Slower burning arcs formed in the air, as one of the fallen's comrades sends up missiles from behind a wall. They climb up six - seven- eight hundred meters then the engines cut out and they tumble. Three don't tumble fast enough, and a countermeasure system blinds them with a pulsed laser. Other sensors see true -quickly surveying the field - then fins snap their noses into the right path. Two find a vehicle, arc over, and explode -a shaped charge, turning a copper ingot payload into a burning lance. An M45 Calvary vehicle is penetrated from the top deck to concrete below. Two others note infantry, and chose to instead fall until a dozens meters up, then set off two rings of high explosive shattering the weapon into high speed shrapnel.
Some vengeance claimed, but not enough. There are yet more of these stubborn creatures, and they have the home field advantage. Each of their infantry a giant, standing twice the size of a citizen, and their portable rockets rarely leave more then a few shards of plastic behind when an eekaide takes the hit. Vehicle cannons punch through armor like paper at incredible ranges. Those curious rectangular things with eight sprockets and one continuous flat wheel are nigh unstoppable. Lasers seem to barely burn them, radiation guns take a full their of their cells to kill them, and
Overhead is a war of triangles and crosses. Delta shaped interceptors rush in close, trying to to keep the enemy in sight for the long instant required for the lasers to burn through. But it is rare for all of them to make it when barrage after barrage of homing missiles fly in from the other direction.
Even if the air could be swept clean, the land scoured flat - a third problem remains. The factory ships have the capability to produce boats of course - one never knows what a new colony world will look like. But the natives have known their planet was 70% water for a long time, and have prepared accordingly. All the active jammers and interceptors of the unstoppable boxes are at least tripled on the large vessels that can be seen, and other roam beneath the waves, invisible to space sensors and yet launching missile attacks at wherever citizen forces concentrate.
Happening upon this place was a stroke of divine luck for the lost fleet. Too long had they wandered alone. But the gods do not give without taking, and this is truly an ultimate test.
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