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CHAPTER SEVEN

Once the Americans joined with the European Army to form the Allied Forces, The Great Empire of Iran launched an all-out attack on American soil. The invasion had no similarity to Normandy or any other invasion for that matter. Troops in uniform did not storm a beach to be shot at by other troops in uniform. No tanks or heavy equipment traveled behind enemy lines to overthrow an enemy stronghold.

The invasion of America was done in secret. It was quiet. No alarms sounded. No emergency broadcast alerts to the public warning that the enemy was among them. The Empire of Iran sent an entire regiment of Muslim warriors to sneak into the United States to do one thing and one thing only - instill fear, panic, and paranoia in citizens of every walk of life. Their mission was clear and they did not discriminate. No one was off limits. They all had targets on their back.

The Silent Warriors did not act alone. American citizens helped them kill their own countrymen. Disgruntled and critical of their own government, large numbers of the American population aided the terrorists in their mission. Fed up with a collapsed economy, a failing infrastructure, and with their ineffective elected leaders, the newly branded warriors joined the fight, ready to focus their rage.

Recruitment was not difficult. The Silent Warriors simply joined in with protests and stoked the fire, causing many a peaceful demonstration to end in violence. They would pick out the most passionate and angry of the group. The waves of homeless people were the easiest targets. Cold, hungry, dirty and forgotten, the homeless needed very little motivation to join the fight.

Every law enforcement agency in the nation, from police departments, big and small, to the halls of the Department of Justice was helpless in stopping the attacks. Arriving via Iranian submarines or by simply walking across the Mexican border, the warriors breached the U.S. with only the clothes on their backs. They were given no specific instructions, no target to destroy, they were simply told to be creative and improvise. The Silent Warriors proved to be more than just experts in stealth; they held true to the name when they were captured. Puzzled captors could not make heads or tails of what little they did manage to hear.
“You’ll never see us coming; you are wasting your time!” “No one is giving me orders; I give the orders only to myself!” “How many of us are here? We are everywhere! We are your own people!” “Go home and look in the mirror - you might be one! Let me out of here and join us!”

The attacks started out small, mainly sneak attacks that did not result in a lot of bloodshed. Confidence and bravery grew from these small attacks, and the terrorists graduated to large scale assaults that killed thousands. The first attack to gain recognition was The Thanksgiving Day Massacre. Terrorists, armed with sniper rifles, launched a coordinated and simultaneous attack on the cities of Boston, New York, Chicago, Dallas, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles. At precisely the same time on Thanksgiving Day, the sniper teams began to kill as many people as they possibly could. The final death toll reached one hundred seventy-nine people, and as a stroke of luck, one of the victims was a Congressman’s adult son on vacation in Las Vegas. The attack had the desired effect; the American people were terrified to leave their homes. Fear and death were now joined hand in hand with the holiday’s more spirited associations of turkey and togetherness.

The Thanksgiving Day Massacre caused much more damage than simply fear and panic. Its greatest victory was paranoia. No one knew the total number of enemies walking the streets. Everyone was a possible terrorist. Your neighbor, the mailman, the waiter bringing your food, the guy in the car next to you might be the enemy. Paranoia clogged police switchboards -
That guy looked like he was up to no good; go check him out! My neighbor acted really nervous when I asked him why he never parked his car in the garage; something must be going on in there! This guy down the street gets packages at all hours of the night; he’s planning something!

The Second Amendment had never been so celebrated, gun control a thing of the past. Many citizens, both frightened and angry, began to wear gun belts and carried pistols like they were from the Old West. The fear of guns vanished when the greater fear of death took precedence. It was not out of place to see someone in a bulletproof vest on the job or in the pew on Sunday morning. The Second Great Depression was cruel to most markets, but never to the gun industry. Every grandmother, every priest, every child over the age of twelve carried a firearm. Fear is an intoxicating predator.

Since Americans could no longer afford air travel, the terrorists instead focused their attention on mass transit. Subways in the nation’s largest cities became a target of suicide bombers. In order to counter the attacks, security checkpoints reminiscent of the ones in airports in the wake of 9-11 began to be installed at every subway entrance in the country. This came at great cost to the already broken U.S. economy and further enraged the American public. Angry and frustrated people had to leave their home an hour earlier just to get to work on time. The security checkpoints at the subways only motivated the terrorists to switch methods. Realizing that wearing a suicide vest was no longer an option, the terrorists instead smuggled ceramic knives onto the subways and targeted children and the elderly. Slowly, the population in major cities began to dwindle away as frightened citizens no longer felt safe. Hoping to encourage the citizens to stay and continue to work in the big cities, thirty-eight governors activated the National Guard to full time active duty to maintain law and order on the streets. Hell, they might even catch a few terrorists on the side. The plan was an overwhelming success in terms of public opinion; soon the remaining twelve states adopted the idea as well. The Unified National Guard was created and was under the sole authority of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who only answered to the president. The president didn’t even have to bother with the unpleasantness of Posse Comitatas in the way that President Lincoln had suffered. No formal declaration was made; the American people begged for it and applauded their leaders for finally taking action and protecting them. After a few months, the idea backfired in the worst possible way. The warm and fuzzy feeling of security was replaced with the Orwellian nightmare of Big Brother.

Citizens did not want to pay the high price of security. Random checkpoints clogged the streets. Red-blooded Americans felt they shouldn’t have to show their ID and submit to a retinal scan. We have rights! You can’t do this! Racial profiling bred chaos. Anyone with olive colored skin was detained and often beaten without even a single word spoken. Residents of the big cities quickly changed their minds and did not like the idea of martial law. Well, that was just too bad. The U.S. government was not willing to take it back and call it square.

The largest attack was during the Super Bowl in 2023. A man named Nassir El-Fayid, a former Al-Qaeda freedom fighter, launched a small crop duster a half-mile from Cowboy Stadium in Arlington, Texas. Before fighter jets could be scrambled to shoot him down, he managed to fly over Cowboy Stadium and release cyanide gas, killing over thirty two thousand people, including the majority of the New Orleans Saints and the Oklahoma City Sooners. The people in the stands were even kind enough to oblige El-Fayid by looking up at his plane. He almost hit the roof of the billion-dollar stadium on his way in. They didn’t know if the plane was some sort of flashy gimmick or some crazy fan who couldn’t get tickets. Many thought the plane was going to circle back around, wait for a time out to be called, and land on the field so some A-List celebrity could make a surprise appearance. Saints fans were looking for any reason to get their team off the field. They wanted the Saints to have a much needed distraction so they could regroup and get back in the game. The two-year old NFL team from Oklahoma would no doubt make the Saints swallow the bitter pill of defeat.

Instead of seeing a famous movie or rock star take the field, an estimated one hundred and twenty-three million viewers watched the nation’s deadliest domestic massacre unfold on live TV for over a minute before the broadcast was terminated. In the wake of the attack, Cowboy Stadium was closed and the National Football League never played another game. The American public was outraged to say the least. While tragic by its very nature, a bomb in the subway was one thing, but millions of pissed off football fans never being able to watch another game was simply outrageous. Riots erupted all over the country and angry mobs killed anyone with olive colored skin. Within a month of the attack on Cowboy Stadium, the U.S. government rounded up anyone whose nationality hailed from the Great Empire of Iran and locked them up in eleven Middle Eastern internment camps scattered across the country. In order to prevent the frightened Middle Easterners from being slaughtered, the camps were literally built around the people. The American Civil Liberties Union protested the violation to human rights. They had hoped that the atrocities of the Japanese internment camps of World War II would not be repeated. After being attacked by angry mobs themselves, the ACLU quietly went away to lick their wounds.

The United States government did not have enough money for the security upgrades to the subways, nor did they have enough money to intern tens of thousands of American citizens in camps for an indeterminate amount of time. They certainly didn’t have the money to activate half a million guardsmen to protect the nation’s cities. Once again, the only remaining option was to borrow money from China. The current loan was to the tune of a trillion dollars, giving the Chinese ownership of sixty-one percent of the nation’s debt.
Firefly
fans just knew that their favorite TV show was a prophetic, with this very thing foreseen by Joss Whedon decades prior. Pretty soon, they would learn to speak Chinese. The fans of the cult TV show were the few that relished the thought.

America was falling. Not many Americans really believed it at first. Their country had endured many challenges in its history. The United States of America had peered into the abyss many times but had never fallen in head first. They had survived a Civil War, two World Wars, and came out the other side of the First Great Depression and thrived. Democracy was the greatest institution the world had ever seen, and no other group of civilized people in the history of the world had been a greater example. To doubt the United States of America was unpatriotic and almost bordered on treason. No one dared challenge their beloved country.

The few that could see the unpleasant truth prepared in secret. They stockpiled food, water, and medicine. They learned how to purify dirty water and start a fire without matches. Couch potatoes learned how to fish and hunt. Suburbanites dug bomb shelters by flashlight. Country folk built bunkers.

Sadly, the few that had the foresight to prepare dared not recruit for fear of ridicule and rejection. The ones that did shout from the rooftops and proclaim the end of the world was near had a rude awakening. The Department of Homeland Security declared that anyone who stockpiled food, water, ammunition, and medicine were potential domestic terrorists and placed on a watch list. It didn’t take long for the survivalist movement to go underground.

America was falling. Its decline had already begun. Patriotic Americans refused to believe it. America would prevail. She would rise again. Those unwilling to help make it happen were traitors. Sadly, the traitors knew the truth. The United States of America was racing towards collapse.

CHAPTER EIGHT

For the first time in two and a half years, Howard Beck made plans to leave his mountain fortress and venture to the other side of the twelve-foot high brick wall that surrounded his estate.  He had spent the previous night obsessing over what to bring along with him.  Howard had designated a specific bathrobe for each day of the week and wore nothing else.  Leaving the compound meant that he would have to wear actual clothes; Howard had no idea what to wear.  He finally decided on four outfits and packed them in his bag.

“Excuse me, sir.” Hal felt he needed to interrupt his creator. 

“Yes, Old Man, what is it?”

“Would you like for me alter the itinerary of our trip?”

“Why on earth would you do that?  Is something wrong?”  Howard anxiously asked.

“No, sir.  Everything is fine.”

Howard was sort of disappointed at this.  He was searching for any reason at all to skip this visit with Meredith.  Hal knew he was a creature of habit and figured that an excuse not to leave was forthcoming.

Hal continued.  “I noticed, sir, that you have packed four outfits for the trip.”

“Yeah, big deal,” said Howard.

“Well, sir, the reason for my query is that the itinerary you shared with me schedules us to return to the residence late tomorrow evening.  I cannot ascertain why you have packed extra clothes and deduced that our trip would be extended.”

“Just being cautious, Hal, nothing more.”

“I understand, sir.  My apologies for the interruption.”

Howard had actually lied to his computer.  He was not being cautious, but rather trying to please his wife.  Howard had figured through painstaking research what outfit his wife liked based on her mood.  He had four outfits - one for happy, sad, angry, and one for downright dreadful.  He would hope for the best and wear the happy outfit.  If need be, he could always change.

Howard went to bed and hardly slept that night thinking about what was waiting outside of his perfect world where everything had its place and made sense.  The world outside his home was falling apart.  People were scared and desperate. 

Howard didn’t understand why these people couldn’t just get their asses in gear and get their act together.

Howard climbed into his car and settled in for the long drive that would take them to the outskirts of western Denver.  Howard had absolutely no idea how to drive.  He was confident that he could easily learn how to perform the task; however, the fact that the roads were filled with people driving in ways that Howard could not control meant that Howard never bothered to learn how to drive.  Hal was the perfect driver and would keep Howard perfectly safe.

Once Hal made the ten-minute drive to the front gate, he turned left on the road. Howard was ready for his morning briefing.

“What have you got for me this morning, Old Man?”

“Sir, I will continue to monitor the estate during your absence and ensure that everything is tended to.”

“I know you will, Hal, thank you.”  Howard lived alone in his sprawling mansion that could easily house a dozen more residents.  Every day, Hal dispatched dozens of robots around the estate to clean, perform repairs, and to tend to the landscaping of his thousand acre estate.  The only other creature living in the house was his wife’s grumpy cat, Nala.  Howard did not like the animal and counted on Hal to keep her alive.

Hal continued, “Sir, I have rescheduled all of your video conferences to later in the week.  The only exception is Director Mills.  I will wait for him to contact me so that I can reschedule the meeting.”

“Asshole’s ducking me, not surprised.”  Howard did not like the report the director gave him the previous day.  The Southeast Director of Beck Enterprises had reported to Howard that the offices south of Atlanta suffered minor damage from Hurricane Luther.  The director thought Howard would be pleased that the office complex only suffered minor damage.  Howard was in fact not pleased; he screamed at the director for almost an hour as if the man was responsible for the hurricane.

“Arson investigators in California have concluded that the wildfires are being fueled by disgruntled citizens who have petitioned the governor to remove the National Guard forces currently stationed in the major cities.”

“Wow!  So the solution is to burn down half of their state?”  Howard frowned in disgust.

“Not the solution I would have chosen, sir.”

“Me, neither.  Continue please.”

“The next entry confuses me, sir.” Hal waited for Howard to reply.

“How so?”

“Governor Prince continues to face criticism from state representatives on how she is handling the quarantine zone.  She has assured them that recovery efforts are underway and emergency crews are working around the clock to repair the damage to the state’s infrastructure.”

“What’s so confusing about that, my friend?”

“Governor Prince is lying, sir.”

This quickly caught Howard’s attention.  He was always proud when Hal could examine raw data and extrapolate hypotheses on human behavior. A lying politician was nothing new, but Hal had peaked his interest. “Continue. I can’t wait to hear this.”

Hal navigated the vehicle to another road that would lead them near the outskirts of Denver.  “Governor Prince has indicated that an aircraft carrier is just off the coast of Merritt Island, fifty-six miles from Orlando.”

“No aircraft carrier?”

“No sir, I have yet to track any naval vessels en route to the coast of Florida.  The closest ones are the
USS Enterprise
and
USS George Washington
; both ships are now on station in the middle of the Atlantic.”

“Anyone else in range that might be en route?”

“No sir, the remaining naval assets that could respond are either in the Iranian Theater or in the Indian Ocean waiting to take their place in the Persian Gulf.”

“Malcolm is an excellent chess player. The Fifth Fleet is his queen ready to swoop into the Persian Gulf for a checkmate.”

Howard didn’t bother to ask about the Pacific.  The Panama Canal would be closed to all vessels for at least another two years, most likely three.  The Miraflores, one of the three locks used to transport ships in and out of the canal, had suffered massive damage due to gross negligence.  Once the damage had been surveyed, the canal was closed.  A complete retrofit of all three locks would be required.  This did not help the American economy or its military in any way.  Ships had no choice but to sail around Cape Horn at the tip of the South American continent.  The detour meant another eighteen thousand miles for American ships navigating the globe.

“I will definitely be asking Malcolm about that the next time we speak.”

“I look forward to hearing the president’s answer, sir,” Hal responded.

Beck Enterprises had one of the few remaining global satellite systems.  Most working satellites still in orbit were communication and GPS satellites that kept the cars on the road and kept people talking.  Howard didn’t really care about recovery efforts for a hurricane that had nothing to do with him.  He was more pleased that Hal had caught a politician in a bold-faced lie that he could tease Malcolm about.  He was even more pleased that his A.I. was continuing to evolve at a rate faster than he had anticipated.

“What else is going on in the world, Hal?”

“Sir, I feel I should delay the morning news report to tell you that our trip to the Castle will be delayed.”

“Why?”

“Rioting in Denver will cause us to take another route.”

Howard couldn’t understand this; Hal knew that they were not to enter the city limits of Denver.  “How does that affect our route?”

“The National Guard has extended its western perimeter of Denver by seven point three miles.”

“That bad, huh?”  Howard began to get very uncomfortable.

“Yes, sir.  One of the roads on our route is now inside the perimeter.”

“Can’t we just go off-road?”  Howard was not looking to add two hours to his round trip excursion to see Meredith.

“I’m sorry to report, sir, that given the terrain, the delay would remain the same and the ride would not be comfortable for you.  Would you like me to take us off road?”

“I would not, Old Man.  Do what you think is best.”

“Of course, sir.  Would you like me to continue with the morning news report?”

“Sure, why not.”  Howard was not planning on paying attention, but he did like to hear Hal’s voice.  It was the only thing that made him feel like he was still at home.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Hal completed his morning report, and Howard watched his favorite episode of
Star Trek: The Next Generation
entitled “The Inner Light.” 

Once the episode ended, Hal informed his creator, “Sir, we will arrive at Beck Castle in twenty-three minutes.”

“Thank you, Old Man.”  Howard replied.

The name “Old Man” was also a Star Trek reference, but this one didn’t derive from The Next Generation.  On
Deep Space Nine
, Captain Sisco gave his friend Dax the nickname “Old Man.” Dax was a symbiotic creature that required a humanoid host.  When the host died, another host was required to carry the symbiant.  Captain Sisco first met Dax when a man named Curzon was the host.  A woman named Jadzia carried the symbiant when the older host died.  Sisco had called the first host “Old Man” because the host was actually quite elderly.  He continued the nickname with the younger woman; it was a source of amusement for them both and the nickname stuck.  Howard had to explain to Hal why he had given him a nickname; Hal did not understand the connection.  Hal told Howard that he was neither old nor had a gender.  Howard just gave up and told him to respond to both names. Hal obeyed his creator.

“Give me a status report on Beck Castle.”

“Yes, sir.  I have prepared the Manor for your arrival.  Director Thornberry’s office sent the quarterly shipment last week, which will be properly inventoried and secured in the warehouse.  The air filters in the east wing are in need of minor repair; replacement parts are en route, and I will install them upon arrival.  The new bay doors to the landing pad have been installed per your instructions.”

“Excellent.  Where is Her Highness?”

“Meredith will meet you in the usual place, sir.”

When Hal came online, the basement of Howard's mansion housed his massive mainframe.  Realizing that Hal was one of the most important inventions in the history of the world, Howard began to grow very paranoid that his creation would somehow be destroyed.  As a very expensive precaution, Howard had a top-secret facility built beneath a mountain thirty miles northwest of his home.  Upon completion, Hal's redundant backup systems were moved into the facility. Nine hundred zettabytes of data chronicling the history of mankind kept Hal company in his secondary home.  Copies of every word ever written, every painting ever painted, every image of everything ever filmed, and everything about everything was stored in Beck Castle.  The sprawling, underground complex could withstand a nuclear detonation directly atop it.  Nothing in the world could destroy it.  If a million years from now mankind became extinct, a new species could then spend another million years evolving into sentience and discover the facility.  Hal would let them in the massive front door and in a few generations would finish telling their descendants everything they wanted to know about their long extinct predecessors. 

When the facility was completed, Howard bumped down a few notches on the World’s Richest Person list.  It was of no consequence; a few years later he took back the crown. Howard built the facility as an ark for the survival of mankind. 

Hundreds of people could live in the complex for generations before they exhausted the resources Howard had provided. He had seen the latest intelligence on the Iranian’s infamous Bunker Five in Afghanistan and wouldn’t wipe his own ass with the blueprints if he ever came across them.

Howard and Hal designed the geothermal power plant that could keep Hal running inside Beck Castle until the end of time itself. If planet Earth exploded, Howard liked to imagine Hal floating inside the bunker. Howard envisioned Hal spending eternity traveling through space, waiting for some alien race to discover him.  Howard debated on whether or not to share the technology of his power system with the rest of the world.  He decided against it, fearing people might somehow make the connection to Beck powering some secret facility.  The survival of the human race, especially the survival of Hal, was far too great a risk to gamble.  Nothing in the world was more important to Howard than Hal. 

Howard had kept the facility a secret from his own government and with much pain, from his dear friend, Malcolm.  Should the time come, the president would be ushered to the facility to live with his friend, Howard.  The superbunker was built in separate stages around the world.  Each company was completely insulated from each other; Hal saw to that.  The people building their piece of the puzzle had no idea what the completed picture looked like.  Hal and his robots did the majority of the construction.  If any stage of construction required human hands and eyes, they were searched for any recording or GPS devices and put on a windowless plane.  Upon arrival, they would be blindfolded and escorted into the facility by one of Hal’s robots to complete their work.  Howard compensated them well, so all the subterfuge was not an issue for those involved.