2099

2099

         There was an eerie silence enveloping the unknown, decrepit building that had likely been ravaged by Millennial forces.  It didn’t show on surface or satellite maps and shouldn’t be here.  The aura remained, like the still before a storm, or the final moment as one waits to die.

I can’t fathom being 150 years old.  I feel better now than when I was 80.  Science and technology have come a long way but it is exactly that technology, manipulated by forces of evil, that makes longevity a life sentence rather than a gift.

“Dietrich, come.  It’s time for us to move.”  said my ally, Petron, while he looked out the window toward the setting sun, seeing that the area was clear and we could shift location without being detected. Surface structures were few and far between , most of the land now barren, having turned from a livable environment to a desert after the siege had destroyed most above-ground habitable dwellings.

I gathered my belongings and made sure that my laser pistol was fully charged.  As much as evening and night normally brought clear passage to the next city or place of refuge, one had to be prepared.

“Chance favors the prepared mind,” I said aloud.

“Under Siege 2,” Petron replied.  “A lesson to be learned.”

We started our trek to the safe house, or underground cavern as it was in this instance.  With the destruction of the majority of surface structures, safety was best found below ground where interventions could be implemented to thwart detection devices.  It was risky to move but it was a necessity since many of the Millennial forces honed in on safe houses after a period of surveillance.  

We walked along in silence initially, wary of being heard.  The journey would be two deca-grids and would take two to three timespans to complete if we kept a steady pace.  I was the first to speak.  “What are the chances we make it to Base 3 without being noticed?”

Petron laughed.  “Chance favors the prepared mind,” he mimicked.  “We’ve done all that we can do to be successful.  I can’t believe that they would annihilate us if we were caught, although there have been gruesome stories about what the Millennials will do to extract what they consider vital information.  Two stragglers marching from one safe house to another would not be a prime resource.  If that were the case, they would have found us by now.”

Petron’s words put me at ease.  “It’s sad in a way that we are in this position.  With all the positive advances, the negatives prevailed, destroying what could have been Eden, turning it into Hell.”

Petron nodded.  “Cyber-hacking for profit, government corruption and lack of a unified direction was the cancer that could not be cured.  People could no longer thrive in unison but needed discord to fuel their energies.  The Millennials won out with their underlying falsehoods that brought the majority to their side and eventually infected all computerized systems.  Fortunately, medical advances and the great scientific minds of our time have been able to circumvent the Millennial invasion and provide an existence that, albeit guarded, is extended beyond what one would have expected sixty years ago.”

The conversation helped to make the journey seem shorter.  I signaled with my Identi-card to the safe house.  As we approached, a hole opened in the ground and an elevator rose above the surface.  The windswept desert dust stung are faces as we lowered our masks and scanned our arm chips to open the doors.  The elevator started downward and the surface went back to being an area of a non-descript landscape of dead bushes and trees along with a scattering of tumbleweed. 

“Welcome, brethren,” a man met us as we entered. “I am Weldon, the new Prefect here at Base 3.  The former leader, Centani, was captured by the Millennials and we have yet to hear of his fate.”

“I am Dietrich and this is Petron.  We originated from Base 27 and came upon an abandoned structure that wasn’t on any maps. We only stayed to rest up on our way here. What do you need us to do?”

Weldon was gracious.  “Take time to refresh and then we can discuss your areas of expertise and how you can best be of service here at Base 3.”

The pair rested a bit, then provided Weldon with a thumb drive of their resume and work as well as recommendations from other members of the Resistance.

“We are one of the few Bases that employ computerized extension for obvious reasons.  Too many portals and the Millennials would be able to track down activity easily.  We vary times and utilization after monitoring Millennial output so that we can best use what we have without detection.”  Weldon set his eyes straight ahead to impress upon Dietrich and Petron the importance of a rigid protocol.

“We understand,” Petron added.  “I can help with the cyber operations and Dietrich possesses an uncanny ability for rousting out the enemy and gathering sensitive data that will come in handy for tracking activity and intentions.

“Are you up to the task?” Weldon wanted to know.  “You both seem a little long in the tooth.”

“I’m 150.  Yes, I know, I don’t look a day over 125.  Petron is a youngster.  He’s 92.  We have both been cleared for maximum activity so, yes we can do it and yes, we are ready to be of assistance.”

“That is good,” Weldon confirmed.  “I know you are both aware that the forecast for the turn of the century is grim, at least for those of us who still fight for what’s best for humanity as opposed to self-interest.  Dietrich, you are old enough to have studied Roman history and their downfall.  I don’t want us to follow in those footsteps.  Our capabilities are far advanced technologically, but the world has been destroyed by the selfish minds of people who have not developed their critical thinking beyond what is personally gratifying.”

“Amen, brother,” Petron chimed in.

“We’re here to be of service,” I said.  “No matter how our earth evolves, I have lived a good life so I have nothing to lose in being of assistance to those who want to put a positive spin on the global community versus the self-indulgent battle of alpha personalities trying to prove who has the biggest penis.”

Weldon smirked and Petron burst out in laughter, a spray of water exiting his nose.

“Thank you,” Weldon offered, “though I am still trying to wrap my hands around that last image.” 

The three shared an embrace.  It was time to save the world.