Stone Age Read online

Clyde was looking a little ashen. Everyone else was silent, listening intently. "This was Max at his finest," Bill thought.

  He continued the assault.

  "Worse yet, I've only mentioned a rather common solar event that happens every two to four generations and the next one will happen during this very one, while we are alive. In fact, scientists estimate better than a fifty-percent chance it will happen before your next girlfriend’s boob job.”

  Clyde just glared at him. His girlfriend, awaking from her catatonic state, realized some attention was on her, but didn’t know why.

  Max, smiling continued, “But there is the potential for an event which is so much worse than this.”

  "Every few thousand years or so, the Earth gets pummeled by solar super storms that are hundreds of times worse than what it experienced in 1859. We're talking months of fire and brimstone, the likes of which the Bible talks about with the destruction of evil Sodom & Gomorrah. Know this; when that happens, your ass is toast. You will not survive.” He was speaking to all the guests now.

  "But, I just may. Not because I'm smarter than any of you... aside from Clyde here." A few chuckles erupted around the room. "It's because I have planned for the end of the world. I've hedged my bets, while you, Clyde sit on your lazy butt watching MSNBC on your satellite TV, worrying about such trivial issues as what politician sex'd pictures of his lower anatomy to some young intern. I'll be ready Clyde when our world comes to an end. What will you do?" Max ended confidently.

  "Mmmm. What about all those preparations for the coming Zombie Apocalypse, Max? I seem to recall a similar tone of certainty emanating from you about five years ago. How'd that work out for you?" Clyde’s rebuttal was quick and damning, to be sure.

  "Come on, Clyde, I vanna go now. Dis talk is boring,” Clyde’s very pretty Slavic sounding girlfriend said, while tugging his arm towards the door. "I vanna go dancing at On The Beach."

  "Okay, fine. Thanks, Bill and Lisa, for the wonderful party." He leaned over to kiss Lisa.

  "Bye Sally,” waving across the room to her.

  “Both your women get sexier each time I see them," to Bill while shaking his hand.

  They were gone just as suddenly.

  Not long after everyone left, Max did his best to stay awake while Bill & Lisa cleaned up. It would have been a good time to tell the Kings what was coming, but he was in no shape to do it now. After two days of no sleep, rigorous manual labor, worry about the end of the world, and now the alcohol from Bill’s margaritas, Max was done.

  “Family, I need to call it a night,” Max said, looking somewhat pale. He arose from the loveseat in the open den and walked into the kitchen to offer his goodbyes.

  “No, Uncle Max,” Sally stood up from one of the kitchen bar seats and pleaded, “You can’t go yet. I’ve been trying all night to speak to you about what you said to Mr. Clydeston, and the solar storms we’re having.”

  His head felt like it was about to pop like an overripe grape in the sun. He turned to her, “I’m sorry. I’m just a little too tired right now. Let’s try tomorrow?” He gave Sally a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “Yeah, sure. Sleep well, Uncle Max,” Sally conceded, for now.

  "Tired from the Clyde Clydeston throw-down?” Lisa couldn’t help but goad him a little before he left. She handed Bill the last dish to dry, both of them standing behind the kitchen island.

  "Ha. That damned Clydeston is a pretentious asshole.” Max then gave his puppy dog look, “Lisa, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I’m just tired and shouldn’t have said what I did. Especially when it’s obvious in the coming da…” He stopped himself. “Truth is, I really hate that guy. What he needs is a good physical ass kicking, or better yet, a 50 cal round to the skull.”

  Bill was imagining Max on the roof of his house taking Clyde out from a mile away, having difficulty repressing his smile.

  “Max, enough,” Lisa insisted. "You never embarrass me. I just thought you were a little heavy, considering the otherwise festive occasion,” Lisa rebutted. “What did you mean when you said when it’s obvious?”

  “Tomorrow. Now sleep,” Max said, kissing Lisa on the check and then hugging Max. “Thanks, Bill,” he offered upon releasing him, quietly exiting out the patio door before he said anything else he shouldn’t.

  19.

  Dr. Reid

  June 28th, 2:10 A.M.

  Salt Lake City, Utah

  His eyes were bloodshot and tear-filled from lack of sleep and from his “goodbyes” to his daughter and grandson over the phone. He knew he would never see them again, but felt a little hope that they might make it. They lived in a very rural area in France, where his son-in-law managed a four hundred year old vineyard in the Burgundy valley. They were smart and had paid attention to his warnings years ago, stocking up about four years’ worth of food and water.

  His wife had long since passed, and so he had no more family about whom to worry. His concerns were broader now. They were for the human race.

  Carrington reviewed his report one more time before closing it and dragging it to the secure Dropbox they gave him several years ago when he started receiving the bulk of his funding from CMERI.

  He opened his wallet and pulled out a well-creased piece of paper, folded in quarters. He opened it, smoothed it out with the palm of his right hand, holding it with the forefinger and thumb of his left. Squinting to make out the somewhat faded writing, he hadn’t looked at for almost six years now. He typed in the IP address and waited for the secure website to boot.

  Carrington considered his next move; the one described to him by his handler on that faithful day he accepted their money. From what he remembered, back then, less than 50 people held the same instructions he had, but none had ever used them, until now.

  He typed in the password at the prompt and hit his “Enter” key.

  The others like him, gladly jumped at the money, which was substantial, simply to do what they wanted to do, their own research. Additionally, they had to report their findings periodically, and most important, one of them would announce the end of the world.

  Most were like him, scientists, doctors, and researchers all in fields that studied and/or prognosticated about the end of the world. He was sure there would be one or two astrophysicists who searched the heavens for Earth-bound asteroids or malevolent ET’s, or volcanologists who waited for the tell-tale sign of a new ring of fire erupting from the Earth’s fragile mantel, or surely a cacophony of microbiologists and epidemiologists watching for the newest deadly bird flu or Ebola. He tried to imagine what his fellow scientists would say when they saw it would be auroras signaling humanity’s downfall. Would they be jealous or relieved that they were not the Paul Revere of this ensuing global apocalypse?

  His fingers found the keyboard and typed in what his instructions commanded. He pressed the “Enter” key once more.

  A blinking light instructed, “Thank you Dr. Reid. Please submit to retinal scan.”

  Carrington leaned forward to the special webcam attached to his monitor. A red light passed left to right and then up and down over his right eye, for which he concentrated on not blinking.

  “Accepted,” flashed on his screen. Then, almost instantaneously, the software he, other paid prognosticators, and other benefactors of Cicada’s benevolence, had loaded on their computers, opened up a pulsating red warning screen that ordered he “CLICK HERE.”

  Carrington was shocked that there was no review by some committee first. He expected a delay of at least a few minutes. While those that oversaw the money made a decision that could affect the human race. Just like that, Carrington put the wheels into motion. He clicked on the “CLICK HERE” link, which opened the following message onto his screen:

  Attention! The Cicada Protocol has been initiated. You are to report immediately to The Cicada Project. The time is at hand. Your instructions have been sent to your desktop, ready to be opened and then printed. This message, your instructions, and your computer’s hard
-drive will be destroyed within 15 minutes, enough time to sort out your affairs. Do not forward this message to anyone. We will be monitoring your computer and methods of communication.

  Do not take anyone with you except your immediate family. Unfortunately, space is limited.

  If you deviate from your instructions, you will be turned away from The Cicada Project.

  We offer our prayers and thanks to you and your family for your commitment and for your safe travels here.

  Cicada 3301

  First checking his watch, Carrington did as instructed and opened the pdf that pulsated on his desktop and printed the three pages of instructions. Making sure that he had everything, he then opened up his bulk mail program for CMERI.

  He quickly typed out his last bulletin. Doing a rapid review and correcting only one typo, he hit the “Send” button, broadcasting the bulletin only via email, afraid he would run out of time if he attempted to also post it to their website. The 24,000 people who subscribed to CMERI’s email bulletins would receive this. He wondered how many of those followed his directions. Six years and millions of dollars, with the main point of getting the word out, and only 24,000 people subscribed.

  “So few,” he lamented out loud.

  However, a few dozen of those were reporters, many of whom had already reported his dire warnings. They would certainly report this. Few would take heed to the warning reported until it was too late. Of course, it was already too late unless you were a prepper of some sort.

  Or a Mormon, he chuckled at the thought.

  His computer began to make a strange noise and then he smelled smoke. Turning his wrist, so that the watch his wife had given to him for their twentieth anniversary showed it was exactly fifteen minutes from when the message first appeared on his screen. He slid his rolling chair back, thinking that maybe it would explode. Instead, it sizzled and something popped in the computer case, and then the monitor went dark.

  To: Maxwell Thompson

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: A CARRINGTON EVENT IS COMING!

  BULLETIN

  28 June

  A CARRINGTON EVENT IS COMING!

  A large CME, preceded by ten smaller CMEs, came into contact with our atmosphere 46 minutes ago. The fullness of its effects is not yet known, but we expect considerable damage to many areas, especially Polar Regions which are less protected by the magnetosphere (the Earth’s electromagnetic shield).

  The effects of the cascading CMEs over the last few days are well known now. However, lesser known is that with each CME, the magnetosphere is being worn down (the best way we can explain it). It appears that this continual diminishment is progressive, allowing greater amounts of solar radiation to break through our ionosphere from each subsequent solar storm. We expect a tripling or quadrupling of the sun’s radiation worldwide over the next few days or weeks. The new normal now appears to be multiple hourly coronal mass eruptions, which will further disrupt the magnetosphere. Besides the ensuing deleterious effects to our bodies (i.e. cellular degeneration and malignancies such as carcinoma), the additional solar radiation will heat up our planet causing polar icecap melting and ensuing flooding of all coastal lands; widespread fires; along with terrestrial reduction of plant and animal life, and therefore a world-wide decline of food sources.

  The news we bring is far worse. Our data indicates a colossal coronal mass ejection has erupted and we estimate the bulk of plasma and ensuing electromagnetic waves will hit Earth within 24 hours or less.

  This solar storm is the one we all feared and we have tried to warn everyone about.

  Unfortunately, we cannot do much to help you. We could recommend that you stock up on food and supplies, but short of a warehouse full of food, it will not be enough. This coming CME will destroy all electrical power, taking down all utilities, infrastructure, and communications. We expect all electronics, other than the most hardened, to be destroyed by the ensuing inductive electromagnetic waves. Across the entire planet, all computers and the Internet will be gone by tomorrow.

  We will continue to monitor this situation and maintain our site (www.CMEResearchInstitute.org). However, when what we are calling The Event occurs, there will be no way to connect to our systems, which we know, will eventually go down like all others.

  Our sincere hope is that some of you reading this, especially those who have already prepared for this, will survive. We pray for you our readers, for our country, and for humanity.

  Dr. Carrington Reid, Founder

  CME Research Institute

  20.

  Putting it all Together

  5:05 A.M.

  Rocky Point, Mexico

  Sally received 9827 pluses and over 2500 comments on her post two days ago. This alone wasn’t what unnerved her, as she has had many great posts that her community of followers would get excited about, some even rising to the level of “What is Hot”, the terms Google uses to describe posts which are going viral, and are then seen by every subscriber of Google+. It wasn’t even the sheer number of direct reports by people who were witnessing or were affected by the solar flares she was reporting.

  She wasn’t sure how they were finding her post and why her post tapped something in so many, but it had. From all over the globe, people were talking about the strange auroras they witnessed or the destruction in Asia, Northern Europe, and Alaska.

  She had also used the twitter hashtag of #solarevent, others followed suit, causing her computer and/or phone to ping almost every second with continual reports, some of which she shared on Google Plus.

  Even her assistant Brian was deep into the comments. As one of the managers of her page, he could offer more, including additional images that were being sent by witnesses.

  What made her most anxious were two specific posts.

  First was from someone claiming to work for NASA. He said that the ISS was “dead in the sky,” literally fried by the solar storm that was currently wreaking havoc with our magnetosphere. He added that what they had witnessed was only going to be followed by something much worse, but didn’t elaborate, saying that he was already breaking the law by posting what he did.

  The second post, from yesterday, was from a Dr. Carrington Reid. The same Carrington Reid was featured in the article she pointed to in her post, Noted Solar Physicist Predicts a Global Apocalypse. He said that we have gone through this all before, something called a Carrington Event – she wondered if it was named after him or visa versa. Further, he said, “There was a 90% chance of a solar eruption, equal to or worse than the Carrington event with a coronal mass ejection so massive that when it hits the Earth sometime within two days, all our power will go down and all of our electronic devices would be destroyed or rendered useless.” That we would be, “literally brought back to the Stone Age.” He then offered his web address (CMEResearchInstitute.org) and that was it.

  Sally and Brian tried to engage further with both “John Smith of NASA” and the less anonymous, “Dr. Reid,” but neither replied. Emails and calls to Dr. Reid were unanswered.

  She pulled up CME Research Institute’s website or CMERI as they liked to refer to themselves, and read about the Carrington Event that occurred in 1859. She read further about the dire warnings and posts of these CMEs occurring all the time. Then she downloaded a free survival book from their website, The Solar Apocalypse Survival Guide, even though it sounded a little too much like what would be found on one of those websites that catered to the crazies. Perhaps they aren’t too crazy, she thought.

  Then it all hit her: Realization of what Max had been saying at the party, why he had her dad build that safe room for them and their electronics, and what was about to come… To everyone.

  21.

  Coffee

  9:10 A.M.

  Clear Lake, Michigan

  Darla took a sip from her coffee and then continued, “No, Google Plus is a much better social platform than Twitter and certainly Facebook. All your posts are searchabl
e, whereas they are not on Facebook.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a digital wasteland,” Steve refuted as gently as he could. “They only have a half a billion users.”

  “ONLY? Really? Actually, it’s just over one billion, and it was built only in a couple of years vs. over a decade for Facebook. Besides, FB is for silly exercises like poking and friending, G+ is for serious people.

  “I don’t suppose your exuberance has anything to do with your sister Sally making a living off it?” Oops, the cat is out of the bag now, he thought to himself.

  “How…”

  “Okay, I admit it. I’m one of Sally’s followers.” Steve then added bashfully, “She’s a good writer, and well, I was curious when I saw the name.”

  “Should I be jealous that you followed my sister before me?” She played with him.

  “I couldn’t even find your profile… I-”

  “I’m just playing with you. I’m glad you looked for me,” her face radiated a full smile.

  “Me too,” Steve grinned back.

  They sat silent for a long comfortable moment, without any awkwardness, just enjoying where their newfound relationship was going.

  Darla broke the silence first, “So tell me. Where are you and your dad flying, and why all the mystery?”

  Steve proceeded to tell Darla all about Cicada, including showing her the GPS location on his Google Map app on his phone. His phone interrupted, pinging with an incoming text.

  “Sorry,” he glanced at his phone. “I’ve really gotta go. I actually have to do a little work before we head out tonight.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something, laying it on the table in front of Darla.

  “What is this?” she asked, puzzled.

  “You gave me a little sand dollar from when you went to Mexico. I had it covered in silver and made it into a necklace… Ah, it’s for you.”

  “I remember that. Wait, you’ve been planning this for a while.”