The inhabitants fall fast asleep. When they open their eyes again, they look around with a puzzled expression, wondering why they are lying down. They stand up without effort, not at all troubled; all of them with the same expression.
REBELLION
In the middle of the bridge, shine the holograms transmitted from Alphacity. Some androids in blue uniform are observing them in deep silence.
“A viral attack of unprecedented power,” whispers a soldier.
“It seems to be finished,” points out C573Y. “Let’s start the population checkup.”
Programs able to reach the inhabitants and carry out the controls in a few moments are released. The screens fill up with statistics. The virus is inactive again. As for the people, most of their memories and personalities have been wiped out or profoundly modified. Only a few have been able to escape the infection.
The officer leaves the group and starts walking around. Reaching the middle of the hall, he turns towards his colleagues: “Equip the troops with antiviral protection and send them to Alphacity. Meanwhile, the medical corps get ready to intervene.”
The soldiers coming from another server, materialize in the town. At first the inhabitants observe them from a distance, speaking in low voices. Then they begin gathering in groups that move forward, threatening the newcomers with their fists and striking up more and more aggressive slogans.
“Get ready to fight.” The troops take up positions.
In unison, the masses launch an assault everywhere in Alphacity. The first rows fall under the shots of the paralyzers, but the following waves engage the soldiers in ferocious hand-to-hand fighting. It’s chaos.
“Too many; immediate withdrawal,” orders C573Y. “Introduce the soporific programs.”
The troops vanish. Then the inhabitants start falling to the ground, one after the other, like flies. The streets and the squares fill up with an expanse of bodies.
“Activate the combat androids,” goes on C573Y. In the armory hundreds of war robots are stored. These will guard the crucial points of the Caravels, above all the bridge, because only from there is it possible to coordinate all the activities.
A soldier gives a start. “They are out of control!”
“The sphere, quick!” shouts the commander.
A gigantic hologram of the ship appears in the middle of the hall. The outside shell dissolves, showing the structure below, a multicolored cobweb of cables linking rooms full of equipment.
“Those…” murmurs an android pointing to a few red points. “Those are the computers connecting the bridge to the rest of the ship. They have stopped working!”
All the lights become green. The soldiers don’t believe their eyes.
“They have started again. Perhaps the problem is solved.”
A flood of instructions reaches the computers.
“They are still not answering!”
A light turns red. It starts flashing. Half of the screens fill with a deluge of data. The alarms sound deafening.
“Another attack!”
After a few seconds, the light goes out. Silence falls on. All the eyes are turned towards the center of the room, where a message is shining:
VIRTUAL POPULATION’S BACKUPS ERASED.
The updates of the population stored every day in the computer, have been wiped out.
“Access the stronghold”, thunders C573Y. The full copies of the digital beings are guarded in dedicated computers; they are activated just the time necessary for the retrieval of the updates. Only a top security protocol can supersede this system.
“Emergency procedure started.”
Silence.
Information flows on the screens.
Corrupted data, blanked databases.
If the population of Alphacity were destroyed, it wouldn’t be possible to regenerate it from the backups any more.
C573Y reaches the command armchair and sits down. He stares with a thoughtful expression at the star-studded sky from the panoramic window. He whispers just a few words: “They know more than we expect... Much more.”
Then he starts a report for the Security General Headquarters. Blood red letters:
“Epidemic broken out. Most of the population infected. Memories wiped out, personalities modified, hostile attitude to Security. After intervention with soporific viruses, our troops occupied Alphacity. Control of part of the ships lost including the armory, which is under enemy control. Backups for virtual population destroyed.”
APOCALYPSE
@ Virtual town of Alphacity.
The ovoid threads its way through the skyscrapers with reflections of the sky. Below streets, squares and gardens follow one another harmoniously. According to its creators, the intent was to build a town to the level of the mission entrusted to its inhabitants: the colonization of Alpha Centauri. However, the real purpose was even more ambitious: they meant to celebrate the end of an era and the beginning of another, in which the virtual population would become the architect of progress.
After a few minutes the aircraft heads for a sheet of water. At the center, is the Security Headquarters, a translucent cube connected to the town by thin bridges.
The ovoid lands on a terrace. C573Y gets out and walks towards a colonel waiting for him.
“Have the sanitary corps reactivated the hospitals?” he asks while getting near.
The other nods. “I have organized a visit. A vehicle is waiting for us in front of the entrance.”
They walk through a corridor crowded with soldiers checking their equipment.
“Our troops are not meeting with resistance. They have already reached the strategic points.”
“How is the assistance to the population going on?”
“The streets are covered with millions of bodies. We will need a few days to reach every zone.”
They walk down to a large square and pass a squadron intent on loading material on ovoids. A vehicle approaches, hovering half a meter above ground and the two get into it.
“To the hospital!”
They cross over a bridge and enter the main street. In front of them, thousands of bodies are lying on carriageways and sidewalks, inside shops and vehicles. The few who escaped the contagion are wandering around like ghosts. From time to time they come across soldiers and robots busy clearing the streets. The vehicle speeds towards the hospital, flying over the heaps of bodies.
The officer explains: “Many hospitals are already full. We have started diverting the arrivals towards other welcome points. The problem is that there are really too many sick people.”
He points to a few soldiers arranging the bodies in interminable lines on the sidewalks. “Often this is the only help we can provide.”
The atmosphere permeating the town affects the passengers, who fall into a stony silence. The automatic pilot brings them back to reality: “We have arrived.”
The vehicle stops in front of the entrance, waits for the passengers to get out and leaves towards a parking lot. The entrance is blocked by a crowd of civilians.
“They are the victims’ relatives who are waiting for the arrivals. We shall go in by a secondary entrance.”
They walk along the building towards a small door, in front of which a soldier is waiting. He takes them to a crowded hall, where the health officer is attending to patients together with his team. He leaves a little girl to an assistant and runs to meet them.
“I am sorry I cannot receive you better, but here the situation is critical. Despite exhausting work schedules, we are overwhelmed by new arrivals. Let us visit the hospital. This is the emergency room.”
The hall is crowded with bodies lying on stretchers and the few staff are working hard in the narrow space.
“Very soon we will not be able to accept patients anymore.” The health officer looks straight into his guests’ eyes. “How is the preparation of the clearing hospitals progressing?”
“According to plan,” replies the colonel. “But shortly they will be
full. We shall be forced to leave the patients in the streets.”
The doctor heaves a sigh. “I see no alternative.”
They set out through a corridor packed with stretchers. On them bodies, with waxen complexions, lie motionless.
“Many arrive here without an identification code. In these cases we compare their genetic code with the data in the registry office, and then we publish their names and try to contact their relatives. Unfortunately our efforts are almost always in vain, whole families are usually infected.”
They step into a room where a mother is sobbing over her son’s body. “Here relatives meet patients.”
A few steps further, a man is asking to take away his sick wife.
“What do you do then?”
“We are happy to discharge the patient. We accept only those who are without any other assistance.”
The director becomes gloomy. “Our medicine is powerless. In my whole career I have seldom met such serious injury.”
“What type of service do you provide?”
“Only decent accommodation. This situation humiliates us, our mission is something else. How is the Computer Science Institute going with the treatment?”
“They are performing the first tests,” answers C573Y.
“They have been lucky to escape the contagion. How was that possible?”
“During the infection they were in the bunker for a meeting.”
The guests take their leave. Now the situation in the main streets has improved. The victims are laid out in orderly lines on the sidewalks and the carriageways are crowded with troops and vehicles. The rescue teams are advancing into the side streets still covered with bodies.
The colonel begins: “Within a few days we will reach everywhere and with a bit of luck we will have a cure.”
But C573Y shakes his head. “Even worse moments are approaching.”
“Why?”
“The virus can reappear at any time. We must destroy it, but how? As to the treatment, we don’t even know whether the damage is reversible. What is to be said about the fact that the population has attacked our troops, or that the ships don’t respond to the controls anymore? The real reason is that someone is trying to take possession of the fleet.”
“You mean we will suffer a new attack?”
C573Y thinks about the talk, of a few hours before, with the Computer Science Institute director.
“I’d never seen anything like that,” the scientist had said. “The virus has modified thousands of code lines and destroyed whole databases. The personalities and memories of the population are not the same any more.”
“When will a remedy be available?”
“I can only tell you that when similar cases happened in the past, the outcome was always unfavorable. I will provide you with a report in a few days when the analysis has been completed, but don’t delude yourself.”
“Did you identify the virus?”
“Our efforts to isolate it have been useless. It was built with an unknown technology.”
ATTACK
C573Y is on the bridge, barricaded with five blue-shielded androids. He checks that nothing is left to chance, and then orders the computer to show where the enemies are. The image of the ship appears. The covering dissolves. A hundred lights are rushing from the armory into a corridor. They stop in front of a reinforced door.
The officer magnifies the picture. A black android gives orders with such an imperious tone that all obey in silence. He puts some plastic on the lock, and rejoins the group crouched at safe distance.
A detonation. A raider rushes to the hatch. While he is opening it, the others take aim. A volley of fire hits the Security front line. The soldiers react with a barrage of fire, but soon their resistance weakens. The invaders burst into. For a few minutes there are flashes and crackling of weapons. Then dead silence.
The followers make their way among pierced bodies and detached limbs, with dazed looks. For the first time, they have taken someone’s life. From the end of the corridor, comes a moan. Nihil runs towards the barricades, disappears behind a heap of rubble; three shots in a row. He reappears with a triumphant smile, waving his group to set off.
At this rate they will reach the bridge in a quarter of an hour. C573Y has decided: he will activate the Defense procedure. An excessive precaution he thought, but the Staff insisted. He transmits a secret code to the Defense server.
A military program assumes the command of the starships. Now he is only a spectator, he feels uneasy. The points of the globe representing the invaders start flashing: target identified. New details have appeared: warehouses, equipment and cables. The secret defensive system of the Caravels, unknown to all the other computers.
Under the bridge there is a weapon depot. A list materializes. The program looks through the items, selects some of them. The floor trembles, it opens. A stainless case surfaces, its cover glides sideways. Inside are thousands of marbles. They start buzzing, take off, gathering into a black swarm. The main door opens; the spheres leave at full speed.
Nihil is placing some explosive on a lock. When the hatch bursts open, he throws himself to the floor rolling beyond the threshold, the nearest ones with him. The others catch just a glimpse of a dark cloud in the distance. An instant later, bangs, flashes and smoke. The spheres return from the end giving the final blow to the survivors.
Next to the door, is a red button, the emergency closing. Now the marbles are halfway, they will reach him within a minute. The button is few steps away, but the way is covered with bodies. He may waste precious moments. He jumps to his feet, hurls himself against the wall. A bang. The switch breaks into pieces. The door closes with violence, flinging the bodies aside. Nihil crashes to the ground, his arm aching. The spheres have not reached him! He counts the survivors, a dozen in total.
“We are enough to win!”
They stand up and reach an impressive titanium door.
The bridge is a few meters farther, full of floating spheres. C573Y and the small group of Security soldiers have withdrawn into a corner. Victory seems near, but the top officer doesn’t feel at ease. From the screens, he inspects the attackers, concentrates on Nihil. His rucksack! When he noticed it the first time, he didn’t pay attention. Too busy preparing the defense. Perhaps it hides such an awful threat, to undermine the outcome of the fight once more!
He addresses the computer: “What does it contain?”
The radar displays the contents. An invisible eye magnifies the surface and examines it. It stops in front of the identification code.
In C573Y’s visual field, appears the answer. Very large letters:
*** ATOMIC BOMB – MODEL AB1521-X ***
The officer is petrified. “The nuclear explosives are kept in the most protected area of the armory. Even I don’t have the authorization!”
“Nihil got the Admiral and his assistants to help him,” answers the computer.
“But when he reached the starships, they were already asleep!”
“The virus itself asked for the information, during the contagion.”
The officer glances at the rucksack. “What’s the power?”
The answer arrives: enough to trigger the explosion of the helium 3! The nuclear fuel, millions of cubic meters of liquid gas destined to be burnt during the voyage to Alpha Centauri that now may cause an appalling conflagration.
“What about the other spaceships?”
“Would be annihilated in the thermonuclear explosion.”
“Move them away!”
“They will reach the safe distance in ten minutes.”
“Too late. When will the android program be accessible?”
“Impossible to forecast.”
Meanwhile Nihil is inspecting the surface of the armored door, looking for weak points. He quivers in contact with the cold metal: behind this last obstacle, victory is waiting for him. The final victory. Looking sideways, he checks his fellows. All lined up, aiming their guns, ready
to pour a hail of fire onto the enemy lines. He dips his hand into his pocket, extracts some plastic. With care, he places it along the opening mechanism. His eyes are sparkling.
Then a tingling in his right arm, the same torpor is spreading from his legs. He doesn’t think about it but his movements become awkward…
He pinches his hand. No sensitivity!
He tries to turn. Impossible!
With his mind, he inspects his companions. All of them, in the same condition!
His sight is becoming blurred, he starts staggering. He leans against a wall. Soon he will crash to the ground.
He gathers all his energies. “Back to Net!”
They find themselves in a tunnel of Alphacity.
C573Y contacts the Special Forces: “There are a dozen of them left. You will find them in the 15th sector.”
FINALLY ALONE
@ Alphacity tunnel.
Nihil is sitting with folded legs, his back leaned against a wall. Everything has been going wrong, really everything, from the very first moment. At his arrival, the streets were covered with bodies. The work of Security. He started the attack on the bridge, but then the black cloud appeared. He had just thrown himself to the ground, when the spheres skimmed over him. He escaped, but many of his companions came to a bad end.
"Those are war weapons that Security cannot be equipped with."
When he was breaking down the door of the bridge, he had the victory in his grasp. A matter of minutes. But Security took possession of the android program.
"I couldn’t have imagined it."
He watches the eleven survivors who are in bad shape, with bewildered expressions. One stands apart with a haunted look, the rest encourage each other. This is what remains of his army.
"They were waiting for us."
He bows his head.
"How was it possible? The messages were encrypted. They must have linked the death of the informers with the Caravels… Security and Defense are allied against me!"
The plan he has devoted himself to for more than fifty years, on which he has founded his existence, is about to fail. The end of a dream, just when its realization is so near.