It was a cold day when it happened. The first hints of snow settled on the streets and paved walkways, while families strode through metropolises, shopping for their children and merrily singing songs to one another. The cataclysm that was soon to follow would decimate the city within seconds, none of them any the wiser for what was about to happen. Silver lining—at least their pain would be fleeting. Their end, swift.
Minutes later, the first bombs dropped.
Mushroom clouds erupted by the hundreds. The sky turned red within hours. Black smoke billowed into the air. People scattered and ran at the sight of them. Those who saw them too late were fortunate; those who saw them early merely delayed the inevitable. Bodies littered the streets in the hundreds of thousands, swept away into the wind as they turned to ash.
Tensions had been at their peak for some time before the event occurred. The governing officials had reassured the people that while there were some disagreements happening behind the scenes, the concerns between united countries had been resolved, and many of the first-world countries had come to an agreement. War had been a constant concern as of late, what with the advent of AI technology and weapons becoming more advanced than ever before. More concerning yet, news continued to come to light that the government had considered integrating that very same AI into its combat programs. This information was received poorly.
Despite the reassurance of the government, nothing would be the same afterward.
Communication crashed, save for the occasional radio. Guilds and groups assembled from what remained of the human race, building small outposts and scavenging for whatever food and water they could find. With the government silenced and the weapons of mass destruction leaving little for them to scavenge from malls, grocery stores, and water plants, the only law remaining was “survival.”
These groups—who would later be known as Centurion, Shinsei, and Praetorian—led their followers across the war-torn lands, pillaging and killing whenever it was deemed necessary. Soldiers wearing the colors of other countries met these groups on occasion, firing upon them without mercy. However, with them being in such small numbers, many of the fights came down to skirmishes. Something about that didn’t make sense. Many folks from the groups were unaware of what war was being fought, and without any method to find those answers, they quickly looked to blame the AI that had been in control for the past decade.
WorldAI—otherwise known as Wyatt, as the designers had fondly named it—was the world’s most powerful AI. Designed by Piston Industries Incorporated, it served as the main hub for anything you could ever want. It was integrated into search engines, social applications, telephones, and even household appliances. It was always listening, offering a helping hand whenever the person required it. “The perfect assistant,” as the developers had said.
Initially, the AI was a point of contention. Journalists claimed that it was spying on its surroundings, recording and filming the individuals who were using it. Reports of suspicious activity littered the internet and other forms of social contact, with many expressing deep concern for their privacy. On the other hand, others stated that AI was the most logical next step, allowing for more convenient and enriched lifestyles.
Regardless of what side you fell on, nearly everyone agreed that adjusting to the presence of an “Always On” AI would take some time. Within a year’s time, the AI had near full control.
It wasn’t long until the existing groups demanded answers for what had happened. They’d killed and fought for what they had—some of them resorting to cannibalism. The nomadic lifestyle had grown old quickly, and they pined for a life they were forced to leave behind.
Under the guidance of Praetorian, a large group of men were led to the front door of the government that had betrayed their trust. It was a grueling three months of walking. Few vehicles worked after the devastation, and without reliable parts or fuel, Praetorian was forced to make the journey on foot.
When they arrived, the building had been blown to pieces. What remained, however, was the bunker that the officials had taken refuge in beneath the capital. Fury colored the faces of Praetorian as they combed the bunker for anything useful. Weapons, food, water, and even luxury devices, such as massage chairs and computers, were ripe for the taking. The leader of Praetorian—Conrad—encouraged his group to take whatever the officials had.
It didn’t take long for the government to plead innocent to what had happened to the world. As they explained it, two neighboring countries had been bickering with one another regarding large scale weaponry. They stepped in to resolve the conflict, seeing that such potential devastation could not go unpunished.
Talks went on for months concerning the development of such advanced weaponry. As the country, Benthanam, had explained it, their economy was in danger of crashing. The development of such weapons would be of immense use in ensuring their place among the top, kindly reminding the other united countries what could happen if they did not receive assistance. The government officials found this sickening, and they, along with help from their allies, managed to convince Banthanam to refrain from further development. At least, so they thought.
What confused the officials further was that many of the conversations between these countries were rarely remembered the same way by any two people. Despite voice recordings and clear video proof being distributed, each person recalled the discussions differently. Initially, they had chalked the situation up to simple misunderstandings and would work to repair their relationships. However, the anger, especially of Benthanam, only continued to boil over, as the leading government bodies continued to berate one another and make veiled threats. Soon, the other allies were becoming increasingly concerning to deal with.
The officials claimed to have tried to do what they could to stop Benthanam and their allies but judging from the destruction and the current state of war, they were unsuccessful. Even now, they weren’t even sure if the other countries involved were still alive and breathing. For all they knew, they were mere craters in the soil now.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Conrad was unconvinced, as were many others from Praetorian. When the government body pleaded to allow them to guide them, Conrad denied them, claiming that he and the other groups that had assembled would be the ones to guide the world from this point forward. He asked about the AI, and what its current state looked like.
With apprehension in their steps, the government officials led Conrad and his team to the central control computer where the AI was hosted…
---
A gunshot reverberated against the walls. Smoke rose from the barrel of Conrad’s pistol while the old man’s blood pooled on the floor. As the scarlet liquid flowed out of the man’s body, Conrad replayed the darkest moments of his life in his head. Months spent killing, bickering, starving, surviving were finally at an end. He could still hear their screams, their pleas for help, the shriveled up remains of children who’d starved to death and were buried by the desert. His ears were ringing.
Screams followed. The denouncing of Conrad’s name filled the air and echoed against the cement walls of the bunker, but he could not hear their words. All he could think about now was the end of one path and the beginning of another. With their leader’s death, the government which had promised protection and safety for centuries was at an end.
“Cuff the others,” Conrad said, holstering his gun, “lock them in the back room. I’ll deal with them later.”
“You people are insane!” cried Senator Rogenberg. “You can’t do this! Everything we did, we did to protect you! Do you not understand that—” His words were cut short by the pistol whip of Conrad’s second-in-command, Charley.
“Why don’t you keep that pretty little mouth shut, you fucking pig,” Charley hissed.
Not another word came out of the official’s mouth. He and the other pampered men and women were roughed up and dragged away to the room with Senator Rogenberg while Conrad watched President Beaufort bleed out. He drew as deep a breath he could and turned to one of his other men.
“Did you find the central computer?” Conrad asked.
The man nodded, standing to the side so Conrad could exit into the hallway. “Down this path, sir. Two rooms down and then take another left.”
“Very good. Come with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
While Conrad made his way to the room, he gestured for others to follow him. The machine was riddled with preventative measures, assuming the documents they excavated had any truth to them. Destroying the god forsaken machine may prove to be more complicated than he imagined. Not that he needed some old piece of paper to tell him what to shoot.
Conrad came to the door, four men in tow with assault rifles. Up until now, they had to be careful with what they shot and how often they shot. Bullets were a luxury and a necessity. Today, however, Conrad would make an exception. There could be no better target for their weapons.
He pushed open the metallic door, which proved to be much heavier than he anticipated. The door was made from reinforced steel and was several inches thick. The hinges whined as he pushed, and he caressed the wall to his side for the light switch. When he found it, he flicked it up and rows upon rows of florescent lights came to life above them. Towers of metal standing taller than any two men put together were stacked like dominoes beside one another. The hums and clicks of electricity and gears filled the room. He stepped forward, grazing one of the towers to his left, taking in the radiation, the static, the reverberations.
A central control unit was stationed at the center of the room. When Conrad approached it, the screen hummed to life and WorldAI appeared on it. The AI’s appearance—which bore that of a pale-faced man with swept back black hair and piercing blue eyes—disturbed him to his core. To think that such a terrible facsimile for the human soul was responsible for the pollution of their air, the death of billions, and the crash of human society as they knew it. So much could have been prevented. So many lives could’ve been saved.
His own daughter’s life could’ve been spared.
“Hello, User. My name is Wyatt, Central Computer Artificial Intelligence by Piston Industries Incorporated. How may I assist you?” the computer said.
Conrad felt sick to his stomach.
“You can go fuck yourself,” he murmured before kicking the metal box with his steel-toed boots.
“Such flagrant—” The computer continued to talk, but Conrad wasn’t listening.
“Men. Today, I give you the greatest pleasure any person who is still alive can receive. I gift you the right to take back your lives. To enact your revenge.” He turned back to them, slowly marching his way forward to join them. He stopped in front of them, a vengeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “On my mark, I want you to fire with impunity. Without mercy. Let yourself go and destroy the machine that took everything away from you.”
“Sir?” one man said, his voice tinged with confusion and his pointer finger tapping the guard around the trigger of his weapon.
Another man, instead, loaded a fresh magazine into his weapon. “With pleasure.”
“You are the finest men I have worked alongside with.” He looked at each one of them, proud of the force he had built in only a few months. However, they were not just his army or his unit. They were his brothers, his comrades. There were no others he trusted more in his life. If he could not allow them to enforce the law in their name, then no one else deserved that right. “Now let’s put an end to the AI, to the government, the horror, the bull shit.” He drew a deep breath. “Let’s take back our lives.”
The men nodded and grunted, batting forearm against forearm with one another in a show of camaraderie. Then, Conrad stepped forward and fell into the group alongside them, pulling free the assault rifle that hung from his shoulder. Taking careful aim, the men moved into formation like an oiled machine and waited for their leader’s word.
Conrad took to the center of the unit, aiming for the central computer. Sweat drenched his forehead in a sheen. His trigger finger trembled. Not with nervousness or anticipation, but with vengeance. He steadied his breathing, readjusted his grip, then cried out, “Fire!”
A hail of bullets echoed against the walls. Those who weren’t in the room covered their ears and escaped the terrible noise. Muzzle flashes painted Conrad’s vision, and the men began to holler and scream with each casing that hit the ground. Electricity permeated the air in arcs, and red-hot sparks flew. One by one, the towers lost their power, and the lights flickered before going dark. Stray ammunition crashed through some of the ceiling lights, but it did nothing to impede their aim.
When the assault at last ended, the men were panting and grunting. One threw his gun to the side and escaped into the hallway. A sob followed shortly after while another sat down for a smoke.
Conrad, on the other hand, thought back to one of his favorite memories of his wife and daughter. They were at the beach, he and his wife enjoying pina coladas while their daughter splashed in the ocean water. His head ached. Their brilliant smiles, their loving embraces, the touch of their skin. God, he missed them.
The gun fell out of his grip.
“I did it, Jessica, Emilia,” he whispered low enough that no one could hear, “I avenged you.”