Cad-Bots, J.C. Laird [desktop ebook reader .txt] 📗

In August of 2017 Iran became a nuclear power. In September of that same year they made good on their promise of launching an attack against Israel, an attack that drew allies and enemies alike into the fray—the onset of ‘Armageddon’. A few countries not belonging to the ‘nuclear club’ contributed to the world’s demise with biological and chemical warfare.

Massive casualties were expected, 99.8% of the world’s population perishing was not. Viruses introduced via biological and chemical agents were exposed to various levels of radioactive fallout in their human hosts. The viruses mutated again and again, plagues and pestilence spread. In the end, almost four billion human corpses littered the world. By 2020, only eight million people remained worldwide. Although these hardy souls were genetically immune to the worst of the viruses, their numbers were dwindling as decomposing bodies spawned newer and more lethal diseases. It was the hope of these survivors that the Cad-Bots could stem the tide of viral diseases before it was too late.

Tennyson Robotics, the international leader in its field, had seen profit potential in the coming war. Realizing the massive casualties such a large scale conflict would create, they pragmatically engineered a mobile cadaver robot to clean up the human remains. Sales of these Cad-Bots to participating countries were brisk before and during The War; automation ensured their manufacture need not be interrupted.

Cad-Bots were the ultimate sterilization process, irradiating corpses with focused, high-intensity Gamma rays, destroying all tissue and bones and reducing the corpses to ashes within thirty seconds. No more viral microbes, no more anything.

The problem was surviving until the Cad-Bots completed their job.

#

The small group of survivors huddled in the basement of the Salvation Army’s warehouse distribution center in Los Angeles, possibly the only ones left in the entire city, with the exception of Frankie and David who were out on a recon patrol. Their band consisted of seven men and three women—including the two outside—ranging in ages from twenty-nine to fifty-five. Provisions were running low and the discussion about their next course of action was becoming heated.

Melissa, a twenty-nine year widow, was leading the faction for an immediate move. “We have to do something, we can’t stay here. Armageddon is over and we’re what’s left. Us and however many other little bands of survivors are scattered around the world. We’ve been holed up in this basement for over a month. Since May of this year there’s been no contact with anyone anywhere in the world—by phone, TV, radio, Internet, short-wave, or by screaming at the top of our lungs. I say our choices are the mountains or the desert.”

“What about just staying right here? The Cad-Bots are sanitizing the city, radiation levels are down; we could just forage for food and wait it out.” This interruption came from Eddie who, once upon a time, was a bass player in the band Et Cetera. Of course, the band would have been a redundancy had it survived, since there was no one left to play for.

“Our odds are still better if we hole up in a less corpse populated area. Plus, the chance of wind-borne viruses will be reduced while the Cad-Bots do their job. I vote for the mountains,” Melissa said. “Frankie and David reported yesterday that they saw Cad-Bots working about a mile or so to the east. By now they may have a corridor cleaned that we can use to get out of the city."

“But if the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta comes up with any antidotes, they’d be delivering the serum to the cities first,” Eddie said.

Professor Martec, the oldest member of the group at fifty-five and a former theoretical physicist at the now defunct U.C.L.A. spoke up. “The lights went dark at the C.D.C. back in April—too many viral mutations. They were overwhelmed.”

Melissa jumped back into the conversation. “That’s why we need to go, why we need to survive, especially if there’s a clean path out of the city to the east. Professor, how long do you think we’ll have to hold out?” she asked.

“I’d say another six months to a year and the Cad-Bots should have the world sterilized and the threat of disease from four billion rotting corpses eliminated,” he replied.” He turned to the man sitting with his back to the wall. “You worked for Tennyson Robotics, Mr. Bidwell, is that about right?”

Jacob Bidwell had been wandering the streets, half-starved, when they found him the previous week. He looked up desultorily. “That sounds reasonable,” he said.

“After that the survivors can begin the process of repopulation, hopefully along a more peaceful path," Martec added.

“That’s not so bad,” Eddie said. He leered at the three women. “There are still plenty of people to repopulate the world, especially since the Cad-Bots have been working twenty-four seven.

“You can forget it; it won’t work,” Bidwell said. “And there won’t be any repopulating the world.”

They all stared at him.

“I was a programmer for Tennyson. They were in such a hurry to get—”

There was screaming and a crash from upstairs. Seconds’ later footsteps pounded down the stairs and the door to the basement burst open. It was Frankie. “David’s dead. They—”

The man’s face turned a faint shade of pink, his eyes bulged, his mouth gaped and he slumped to the floor. They watched, horrified, as he slowly turned to ash.

Everyone ran, except Bidwell. The robotics’ man didn’t rise or bother to move. He didn’t seem surprised, only resigned, and continued mumbling to himself. “There was a flaw in the Cad-Bot software,” he said. “We didn’t genetically differentiate between living and dead human tissue and bone in the programming. If it identifies a human—living or dead—it will destroy it.”

Heavy metal treads sounded on the steps….

Text: John C. Laird
Images: ©istockphoto; cover by Alexandra Laird
Editing: Alexandra Laird
Publication Date: 08-29-2013

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