A Buffalo Woman's War

I was born on May, 16 2099. The same day a white buffalo calf was born as well. A white buffalo is extremely rare. Now if that isn’t odd already, a lunar eclipse occurred that day. That’s not the mind blowing part, get ready for this … the moment the Moon aligned in between Earth and the Sun, was the exact time of our births. What are the chances? 

All of our food sources are genetically cloned in a lab to end starvation around the world. However, a white buffalo was never encoded into the stem cell of that species, so how a WHITE calf was born remains a mystery. My parents told me the Universe had a special plan for me. 

The myth about the white buffalo dates way back when people on Earth used animals such as horses for transportation. People called Native Americans (Indians) worshiped the white buffalo as a deity. Story has it, famine spread across the land so the Indians sent out two men in search of food. In the distance, they saw a mysterious figure, who turned out to be the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. One of the men approached the woman but she immediately burned him down to a pile of bones. She told the second man to go back to where he came from and tell everyone that she is HOLY and to expect her arrival. 

Days later, the beautiful mysterious woman arrived at the tribe, with a sacred pipe that released magical gasses to grant wishes. She forewarned them her power to restore harmony and spirituality to a troubled world. She bestowed upon them four more times, each time riding on a different color calf as she blew heavenly sweet smoke that smelled like Japanese Honeysuckle from the pipe. The final time, in the midst of a foggy haze with the sweet scent of Japanese Honeysuckles, only a white buffalo calf appeared. However, before the calf disappeared off into the distance forever, a herd of Buffalos began to surround the land, able to feed a thousand tribes. Thus, she was known and celebrated as The White Buffalo Calf Woman. So guess what my parents named me? You got it, Buffalo Calf after the woman. If I could express a rolling eye emoji right now, I would. 

The world as I know it is in turmoil and chaos. War broke out between AI Robots and Humans. Our kind is nearly wiped out, tactically humans are no match against the robots, ironically WE created. No one dared to utter the TRUTH out loud, that we are at war with ourselves.

 My husband, my brother and I are all pilots and enlisted in the Air Force as soon war broke out. We piloted flying submarines. My husband, Alf, is a tough son of a gun. Fear was an emotion he was not born with. But, towards me and my brother, he is gentle and cuddly as the hairy brown cartoon character. I always felt protected when I was with him. My brother, Ed, a man with little words but when he spoke, everyone listened. Undoubtedly, we are a force not to be wreckin’ with.

Our flying submarines are gnarly. Jammed packed with heavy artillery to wipe out our targets within seconds and flies as smooth, light and fast as a falcon. I named my flying submarine, Crazy Horse. Alf's submarine he called the Black Coyote. Ed named his darling, Flight with Sight. We flew our flying submarines as if they were a part of our upper extremities.  

We are limited in ways of war tactics. Even with the most advanced weaponry, nuclear bombs and air crafts, it all meant nothing when we couldn’t use any technology with an operating system. The AI’s hacked into our systems to locate and destroy us. In a way, we were like the Indians, fighting for our land and mirroring their strategies in this apocalyptic war. A bloody and brutal war humans are losing.  

Today is like any other day. I wake up, ready for battle. All three of us suit up. 

“Ya’ll ready to take down a bunch of stupid band of metal that can’t even play music?’ Alf jokes but with intensity behind his eyes. 

“Babe, you know I prefer country music,” I lightheartedly say but with a growing knot in my stomach. Ed just nods his head in agreement, putting on his headphones. I let them walk in front of me, watching their broad silhouettes, memorizing every feature. 

“If there is a God, bring my boys home safely,” I whisper to the heavens above.

 In the air, just like the Moon, Earth and the Sun, we fly aligning our submarines as we head into battle. Since we aren’t able to use our comms to communicate, we fly in stealth mode. Hoping with our skills, precision and lots of luck, we bravely wage into the battle ahead of us. 

Once we reach Connecticut, the state looks like pictures I’ve seen out of history books from the September 11 event. Buildings in flames of fire, ground troops scrambling around, firing laser missiles from their weapons and fighter jets zooming through the air, deploying bombs. The AI’s look like anywhere from vacuum cleaners to almost human-like forms. Fortunately, a law was passed to prohibit coding the ability to laugh into their central processing unit.    

Like a flock of birds, we dove down, ready to fire our Tomahawk missiles. We barrel roll, Yo-Yo and wingline our planes while firing our missiles, blasting multiple robots to tiny bits of shards.

 Suddenly, out of the corner of my eyes, I see Ed’s flying submarine had been shot and the right wing is burning in flames. Frantically, I direct my flying submarine to follow him. Handicapped, he flies towards the ocean. My heart sinks, as I see his plane spiraling down and nose dive into the Atlantic Ocean. Applying full thrust, my plane slips into a fast steep, vertical dive down into the ocean, leaving a trail of jet fuel vapors. Once I reach his submarine, I see he is stuck inside. His hatch wouldn’t open. Instantly, I pop open my hatch and swim towards him. Fortunately, our suits are designed for warfare, equipped with powerful weapons. I activate the melee feature from my gauntlet, firing an insurmountable wave of energy force at the end of the submarine to cut through the metal to reveal an opening for my brother to escape. Instantaneously, we deployed the jet propellers from our suits, enabling us to swim faster than a sailfish, heading to the nearest battleship.

Once we safely board the battleship, known as Cheyenne, I direct my attention to the Commander regarding my husband. 

“What happened to the other flying submarines? Has anyone returned?” I question the Commander of the ship. My husband, brother and I are somewhat known as heroes amongst the navy seals. Stories of our spectacular flying abilities earned us respect.

“Buffalo, he hasn’t returned,” Commander Rosebud says, recognizing us. 

“Buffalo, we don’t have another sub to operate,” says Ed. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll navigate our fleet of battleships to rescue Alf. Where is he?” asks Commander Rosebud.

“We were fighting those darn hunk of metals in Connecticut. How many battleships are stationed nearby?” I ask.

“Our fleet consists of 13 vessels. Perfect! Connecticut is only 500 miles north from here. Easy peezy darlin’. We’ll set a new course, oh hell, we’ve been waiting for this moment, scratching our balls for the chance to fight,” snorts Commander Rosebud, tattoos lining her entire body including her face, which made her appearance androgynous had it not been for her set of bulging ta’s ta’s. Commander Rosebud scours new orders to her executive officer, who scours orders to the rest of the ship’s company. My attention turns to one of the Marines.

“How many armored suits are on board?” I ask.

“99 suits all ready for combat, ma’am” replies the marine.

“Alright, gather up the marines and let's suit up,” orders Ed.

 Once the other fleets arrive at our location, Commanders from all over the world line their battleships alongside ours. The formidable columns of vessels, carrying a bold and angry crew of marines, navy seals and just ordinary people fearlessly sail into a mountain of waves and song of hell's bells. 

Suddenly, the sky turns an eerie haunting gray color. We hear thunder from behind as the clouds spit out balls of crystal hail. Lightning strikes across the sky as the hail turns into a storm. The sea is now a tsunami of waves.   

 Everyone wearing armored suits are on deck, anxiously waiting to jump into the angry ocean once we arrive at the target location. By now, the storm has turned into a category nine hurricane. 

“Ed, I need you to stay close to me and use our peek a boo strategy, you get me?” I shout over the sound of the crashing waves and thunder. 

“Buffalo Calf, I got you,” for the first time he smiles, looking at me with tenderness in his eyes. I held back tears but this is not the time to show how I really feel. 

“Hey Ed, punch buggy don’t punch back,” punching his suit and with that signal, we all jump into the ocean, activating our jet propellers. Under water, vapors from our propellers clears a tunnel for the rest of the company to easily navigate and follow. 

Once we reach the port of Connecticut, we fly out of the ocean, with our gauntlets ready to blast at the first vacuum cleaner in sight. To our surprise, the city is nearly empty but we follow the sound of warfare. The AI’s must have retreated back. Hunger in their veins, the fleet’s company throttle their suits with full thrust, flying right into action. Ed and I fly higher, trying to find Alf’s submarine.

Then, I thought I must be seeing things because the sky cast down bolts of lightning, blasting robots into ashes. 

“What in golly heck is happening?” I shout to Ed, as lightning strikes and annihilate more robots. 

“I don’t know but let’s utilize this opportunity to find your stubborn husband,” Ed commands. We fly all over the city until we spot the Black Coyote. We land on the ground to inspect the submarine. She is severely damaged but Alf is nowhere to be found. 

“Now, don’t you start to panic Buffalo. You know he’s more than competent in moments such as this. Let’s go survey the rest of the area,” Ed says, trying to comfort me.

We fly into battle and miraculously, we see hundreds of robots burst into flames from the fires our troops launched like missiles and lightning the sky used as a weapon. Suddenly, I hear Alf’s voice resonating in my suit. 

“Baby Calf, you around mama? Oh heck this is weird as it gets,” his voice breaks in and out. Ed and I look at each other in shock. The OS system that powers communication in our suits has been activated and is fully functional.

“Alf, thank mylanta you are alive! I can hear you! Where are you?” I shout into my suit. All of a sudden his face pops up on the visor of my helmet. The electro-magnetic energy shields are working as well which means we can shut down any electronic devices. 

“Baby calf, all the robots are getting obliterated by the lightning. We’re all just sitting in a Starbucks, trying to get our operating system back online. I’ll drop a pin of my location,” he half laughs, half in disbelief.

Ed and I flew to his location and to find hundreds of wounded marines, soldiers and just ordinary people. I walked into Starbucks and there Alf is, parts of his armor has been scorched, blood dripping from his ears.

“My wounds look worse than it really is, I had the suit do a complete health body scan and I’m fine,” he scuffs as he takes me into his arms for a bear hug.

“Ed, thank god you are okay buddy. I saw Buffalo follow your submarine and I was about to high tail it towards you guys but I had an annoying mosquito drone hot on my tail,” he says to Ed.

“I’m fine thanks to Buffalo but more importantly, what is going on?” Ed asks. By this point, our operating system in our suits is fully back online. Finally, we are able to hear the news reported from other countries.

Apparently, the same miraculous bizarre incident happened all over the world. Gray ominous clouds blanketed the sky, raged with angry sounds of thunder, spitting out balls of hail, transitioning into hurricanes and tornadoes, then the sky lit up with the brightest bolts of lightning. The sky's target was any and all robots, each strike wiped out snakebots, steam cleaners, robotic insects and with one final blow, the sky sent a series of simultaneous electrical discharge to destroy the any remaining robots.

Stunned by current events, those that had taken shelter, armies, pilots, soldiers ... every single human put down their weapons.

"Are we all dreaming?" the crowd asks in unison.

"How could lightning strike out only the robots?" one asks.

"Who cares! We won! The war is over," shouts someone. Then everyone starts screaming and cheering. A lot of people starting crying, relieved the fear, pain and suffering of war is over.

Alf, Ed and I dismantle out of our suits and breathe a heavy sigh of relief as the crowd cheered and screamed at the news.

Then, from the corner of my eye … I saw a white buffalo calf walking away, heading off into the sunset as the clouds disappear to reveal the sun and by golly, a rainbow.