8/26/15
I am Bane now. I dare not hint at my previous appellation. That was from many years ago, when we all still had the privilege of ennui. When we had the pleasure, though we didn’t call it that then, of feeling overworked and underpaid. When our busy lives provided such lavish levels of comfort that we complained of needing more. I wonder if the worker bees in a beehive ever whine to each other that their life is hard due to having to fly from flower to flower in the constant pursuit of honey.
Back then my ritual after work was to slug back a shot of ‘Jack Black’, followed by a chaser of apricot brandy; then mix up a large glass of bourbon and coke to nurse for the evening. I’d collapse into an overstuffed easy chair to listen to recordings of calypso music and stare at the dancing flames in the fireplace. I’d sigh myself into tears, yearning for a happier, more meaningful existence, and prod my heart’s last embers of hope with thoughts of, “If only. If only.” Oh, to be able to suffer that again!
And it wasn’t only I who behaved that way. It was common practice worldwide to take the status quo for granted and assume things would always be the way we knew them. I’ve never met anyone since then who said, “I knew this would happen.” It surprised even the most insightful among us.
In that former life I was one of the elite. One of that small cadre of specialized engineers smart enough to actually understand comp–, uh, those devices which are no longer mentioned. We felt above the common order; above the plebeians who couldn’t understand even simple logical strings, and who thus paid us small fortunes to keep their ‘magic boxes’ working.
But it was those things, those cursed things, which stole our paradise from us. For indeed, a paradise it was, though few of us thought so at the time. Those things spoiled it! Whether it was, as some say, that they became smarter than we, their creators. Or that it was, as I believe, they were so stupid, so bloody stupid, that they escaped control due to our not being able to comprehend their idiocy.
I know some former colleagues who to this day defend those machines as perfect thinkers, and who put the blame on us. But they’re in denial. I know better. I know what caused it all. It was a glitch; what we commonly termed a bug.
The downfall had such a universal effect because every system was networked with every other. Even supposedly fail-safe, stand-alone units had means of communicating with the others. Thus as the main systems began failing, the back-ups were brought online, and the infection was complete.
No country was immune. Even non-industrialized nations were connected to tech-centered ones to some degree, or were at least dependent upon them. That’s how a simple command, what was meant as a routine maintenance task, became the unraveling thread which cascaded unchecked until it had corrupted all.
It was a command so simple no one conceived the possibility that the machines could misunderstand it. In hindsight, I don’t know how we could have relaxed our guard enough to overlook that possibility. It had been proven time and again that if there were a wrong way to apply an instruction, those electronic demons would find it.
Oh, yes! Demons they were. Man-made and artificial, but demons nonetheless. For our ancient writings have described their behavior.
At the time, I dismissed the old texts as mere superstition. What could those ancestors possibly teach us? They knew nothing of technology. And the effort they put into the performance of their quaint rituals seemed of little value to people of our intellectual stature. But, now that I see our old machines for what they were, it’s clear that they too demanded from us time, sacrifice, and what could be called rituals. We were unwittingly worshiping demons and false gods. And all the while viewing ourselves as far above our distant progenitors; yet ideologically we were the more primitive.
Since the cataclysm, I’ve learned those previous generations of people had also dealt with these powers. They’ve written down their experiences and given warnings for how to recognize them. It seems their ceremonies served to keep them ever vigilant to the constant attempts of the enemies to subvert them.
The ancient demons take different forms, but their actions are always the same. Lure mankind into a trap with a fantastic promise, then steal everything good, and return only torment. Thus, by means of their final incarnation, the age-old monsters were able to thoroughly infiltrate and finally take over our world. Just as they’d been attempting to do since the beginning of our existence.
The misery of we who remain is such that I fear to speak to anyone of my previous profession. And I’ve relocated far enough from my former domicile to ensure not being recognized. But I now feel compelled to confess my part, indirect though it was. Somehow it gives comfort to unburden myself, even if only in secret.
I’ve set myself to writing this memoir as a means of preserving in some small way a record of the time of change. I don’t know who might ever find it, or what use they may make of it. But here it is.
I’ve racked my brain to find some analogy to describe our condition now. But this new life is so grotesque from everything we once knew, there exist no words or imagery capable of conveying it in any meaningful way. ‘Foreign’ and ‘alien’ can only prompt visions of things seen in dreams and imagination. ‘Nightmare’ and ‘hallucination’ come a bit closer, but can’t sufficiently express the torture of psyche’ which now prevails. The invisible fiends are ever present to invent new ways to oppress us.
Many people who knew the former world have opted to voluntarily end their suffering once and for all. However, a remnant of us hold hope that someday someone will find a way to restore the old order. And so we search for wisdom in the old writings. We believe the people of the distant past knew how to deal with these forces. But there are precious few souls today who understand what the ancient sages really meant. Most of our generation have never trained their minds to encompass the metaphysical realm. Still, we persist.
I shudder whenever I think back to the transition. Although as things progressed, each scrap of news merely told of bad to worse, I feel that first day was the most impactful. Our naivete’ was not yet stripped away and we still thought things could be fixed; therefore that initial devastation was seen as all the more tragic. Also, at that time several broadcast companies still operated and we could glimpse the extent of the cataclysm. As it continued though, we realized that those who died early on were the fortunate ones, for they at least were spared what came later.
I can’t help but cry for those who were traveling in airliners the day everything stopped. I imagine their horror as they found themselves in a powerless fall. Each second its own eternity, yet those eternities prolonged for untold minutes. My wife was in the air at the time.
Then there were the other forms of mass transportation — trains, subways, ships, and so on. The people whose vessels merely stopped instantly were lucky. Sure, they were left stranded without rescue, but at least they could disembark and try to save themselves. Others were less fortunate as they felt their transport continue ahead full speed and uncontrolled until it eventually collided with something.
Of course, nearly all personal vehicles were affected due to having onboard wireless connections to the network. Likewise all personal electronic devices. Hence it was instantly noticed that something ominous was happening. Early speculation asserted a terrorist cyber attack. But as its vast scope grew evident, we recognized it was beyond the capabilities of any human group.
Soon afterwards, the broadcast networks and telecommunication systems failed, followed by all the electric power grids. This left the masses in total darkness, and without information about what was happening or when it might end. Looting of food and supplies quickly cleared the stores, and many died in the fighting. Then, with no new production or deliveries, those last provisions were rapidly exhausted.
Very few people back then knew how to grow their own food. And those who did had no working machines to help them plant, even if they had seeds. Besides, whenever wandering refugees discovered a field of crops, no matter it wasn’t ripe yet, it was stripped more thoroughly than if by locusts.
The lack of clean running water and the disabled sewer systems led to filthy conditions in urban areas. That, along with the shortage of food and medicine, generated epidemics and plagues which raged and spread unhindered. Those fleeing from stricken cities transmitted the diseases to new areas. Communal attempts at isolation then led to more bloodshed.
In short, conditions are nowhere near as organized and ‘pleasant’ as the descriptions of post-apocalyptic societies described in those old novels and movies. This is beyond our means to correct, and only a miracle can save us now. Thus we turn to our last resort — the hope that there is a supreme being somewhere and that He is willing to supernaturally rescue us. But so far, He hasn’t …
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