The Unearthing (5 page)

The new media required new delivery systems and a small electronics firm working in Ottawa, Ontario provided the world with the next step in computer evolution: quantum optic computing, the computation of information using light instead of electricity and quantum processing. Previous computer systems relied on the electric processing of digital signals. Optic processing used light pulses instead of electrical impulses to transmit information. And where traditional computers transmitted bits of information as either ones or zeros to process information, quantum computation processed information by transmitting them as ones, zeros, or as virtually any probable combination of ones and zeros. Quantum-Optic computers, sometimes called Optical Probability Computers, worked so much faster, so much more efficiently that the amount of information that could be transmitted processed and stored was exponentially greater than any previous computer system designed.

With the advent of quantum optic computing, Grid service providers replaced or absorbed cable companies, phone companies, Internet service providers and a host of other data-based industries. As currency was replaced by electronic credits to meet an international economy, even banks were absorbed into the new World Grid. The debit card became the new cash, with card-scanners built into most computer keyboards. Banks became largely virtual, with most people performing their financial transactions from their computer terminals. The World Grid was so all-pervasive that governments around the world formed supervisory committees to regulate as much of the technology as they could. And what couldn’t be legislated was closely watched.

Most national Grid oversight committees simply ensured that no criminal activities were committed. There were some governments, however, who used theirs to spy on their own citizens; the United States of America among them. The House Grid Securities Commission had empowered the Homeland Security Agency to do just that. The work was outsourced to the Defence Intelligence Agency. The Laguna dig had been attracting attention ever since it started. But when the Doppler seismology tests revealed the possibility of a massive artificial construct buried beneath the New Mexico desert and that that object would have been there for millions of years, very keen interest was paid to the dig. When the Concord 3 space station began its survey of the area the DIA was already tapped into their systems through a back channel, recording everything. Already General Roy Harrod, head of the DIA, was aware of the ongoing operation and was supervising it closely under the direct orders of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Within an hour of the deep scan’s beginning, the data being compiled by Concord 3 was already being compiled and extrapolated by the DIA’s own supercomputers. And the results of that extrapolation were so shocking to Harrod that immediately after he had read the report he contacted the Cee-Jay-Cee on a Grid channel that was only to be used in the most urgent situations. Harrod’s desk was devoid of any furnishing other than three computer consoles connected to the same keypad. The information from Concord 3 was on the console to his right. On the middle console he was linxing through to the Chairman, Joint Chiefs.

“General,” The Chairman said, “What is it?”

“Sir, this is in regards to the Type Seven in New Mexico,” Harrod replied.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m linxing the information to you now, sir,” Harrod said as he entered a sequence of keys on his keypad, “I would suggest deploying personnel to New Mexico and securing control of the site.” At his own workstation, the Chairman was reading over the report Harrod had just sent him.

“I concur, General. Use standard protocols and keep me fully informed. This is your operation, General Harrod.”

“Yes, Mister Chairman.” In his office at the Pentagon, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff sighed heavily. The Chairman terminated the link and then removed his earpiece. He couldn’t get the knack for hitting the buttons without seeing them. He tapped in the correct sequence and replaced the earpiece. His console turned black except for a single red dot in the center of the screen.

“Yes?” a voice issued into the Chairman’s earpiece.

“Put them on call,” The Chairman said, “We may need to meet.” There was a long pause on the other end. An emergency meeting was rare.

“Understood.” The voice said, at last. The signal was cut. The Chairman sat back in his chair.

♦♦♦

Two hours after the downlink from Concord 3 began James was nearly done a preliminary compilation of the data.

“A lot of this is going to be conjectural,” He warned, “We’ll know the basic size and shape of the object but we won’t be able to tell its composition or any fine details.”

“That’s alright James,” Echohawk said, “Let’s see what you have.” A large display screen had been set up to the left of the main console workstation. It unrolled much like an old projection screen and liquid crystal within compiled the image. They had set up the screen to accommodate the small audience of onlookers who had gathered, including the entire Laguna Band Council.

“We’re only going to be able to see from the top down,” James explained, “We can do a side view, but only of the upper half of the object. Whatever it looks like from below will remain a mystery, unfortunately.” Those were the last words spoken by anyone for a very long time. Onscreen, the image of an arched dome appeared. The dome stretched out along its base into a long disk so that it seemed to be a tall, rounded mountain stretching out to a valley floor. At the top of the massive dome was the elevated dais and atop that, looking very small when compared to the dome itself, was the Laguna Pyramid. A distance from the top a ring of three-quarter pyramids guarded the crest. According to the scale, there was one pyramid roughly every half-kilometre, twenty-eight in all. At the bottom of the disk, the object was thirty-two and three quarter kilometres across. It was circular and the blister-like top of the arched dome was almost seven and a half kilometres high.

“My God,” Santino said, “What the hell is it?”

“James, get me a linx to the WAAS,” Echohawk said, “I need to speak with Professor Todds immediately.” James nodded and began working a second keypad.

“I don’t understand,” Peter said, “What are we looking at? A domed city? If so, who built it?”

“We don’t know that that’s what it is,” Echohawk cautioned.

“Well, what else could it be?” Peter demanded, “And how did such a civilization occur without any other evidence ever being found? How did they develop their industry without fossil fuels?”

“Alcohol-based fuel?” James suggested, “Maybe they used geothermal power?”

“James, my linx to Professor Todds please,” Echohawk reminded him, “Guys, let’s try and stay focused here. We don’t know what we’re dealing with right now and we can’t jump to any conclusions.”

“Prof? We have a problem,” James reported.

“What is it?”

“I have no Grid access,” James said, “I’ve even lost the feed from Concord 3.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know!” James answered, “I can’t access the WAAS, Concord 3, I can’t send linxes and I can’t even get a VOD show.” Echohawk crossed to where he’d put down his travel bag and pulled out his own console. He switched it on as he slipped his headset on. Lowering the microphone and display booms into place Echohawk placed his own Grid linx. All his display showed was a standard no-service message:

Error 201.21: Unable to access World Grid at this time.

Please ensure that your modem is online and that your connection settings are valid. If the problem persists, please contact your Grid Service Provider.

“Shit!” Echohawk swore, “What the hell is going on?” In response to his question the aluminum walls of the lab building began to rattle and hiss as they were pelted with sand, dust and small rocks. At the last Echohawk heard the distinctive staccato thunder of helicopter blades rumbling in all around them. He, James, Peter and Chief Santino rushed from the shelter into the night air. A storm of debris blew around them as four massive black helicopters landed in the compound. Several other military vehicles, including British-made Ranger armoured personnel transports were rolling up. The glare from the floodlights on the helicopter illuminated the compound with dusty beams of cruel, artificially white light. The storm began to die off as the helicopters’ propellers cycled down. The growling whine of the power cells in the land vehicles also faded, leaving only the migraine white of the floodlights that seemed to be everywhere. Echohawk squinted vainly, feeling pain behind his eyes. James and Peter produced sunglasses. Santino shielded his face by making a visor with his hand. They watched, stunned, as soldiers began running around in an organized, concerted effort. The soldiers were rounding people up from the mess tents and the shelters, bringing them all over to the central location of the laboratory. Two soldiers stood before Echohawk as the rest of the camp’s inhabitants and the dozen-odd curious onlookers that were almost always on site were herded together behind them.

“What the fuck is going on?” Echohawk bellowed with indignant rage. The soldiers said nothing. Finally after everyone was brought together, one of the soldiers spoke into her headset.

“Area secure Colonel!” She barked. A door in the helicopter nearest to Echohawk slid open. A man in combat fatigues, tall, gaunt with ice-blue eyes and greying hair shorn clean to his scalp walked slowly, deliberately from the cabin. As he reached the hard-packed earth of the desert floor he slipped a visored cap onto his head and walked with the same imperious, deliberate pace he had used to leave the helicopter over to where Echohawk stood. He had all the bearing of a senior officer and all the power and menace of a veteran soldier.

“Professor Mark Echohawk,” The Army officer said, “I am Colonel Isaac Jude, United States Army Rangers, Thirteenth Battalion.”

“How very wonderful for you,” Echohawk said. Jude ignored the remark.

“By order of the head of the Defence Intelligence Agency, acting on the behalf of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of the United States, we are seizing control of this site and all equipment and records within. This area is now considered to be entirely the property of the Government of the United States. You and your people will be detained long enough to be debriefed on the artifact you’ve uncovered. Until further notice, all access to the World Grid in this area, including the town of Laguna has been blacked out.”

“You have to right to do this!” Santino bellowed, “This land belongs to the South-western Aboriginal Protectorate, as per the terms of the North American Aboriginal Charter! You can’t do this!”

Jude turned his head to regard Santino with a cold, dispassionate gaze.

“Chief Santino,” He said, sounding stunned at Santino’s words, “We just did.” Jude shook his head at their dumbfounded expressions, unable to suppress a smile.

♦♦♦

“Colonel Bloom?” Bloom was at her desk, overlooking resource consumption reports on her console screen. Bloom keyed open the intercom channel and replied.

“Go ahead.”

“Colonel you asked to be kept apprised of the deep scan of New Mexico,” The operator on the other end of the intercom explained, “There’s been a development, ma’am.”

“I’m listening.”

“The scan is still ongoing. However we are no longer able to relay telemetry to New Mexico.”

“Put a crew in the virtual chairs and deploy repair drones,” Bloom said, “It’s not rocket science Lieutenant.”

“The problem isn’t on our end Colonel,” The Lieutenant replied, “There’s no Grid service at the site.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The entire Laguna district of the South-western Protectorate, in other words most of north-western New Mexico, is without access to the World Grid.”

“That’s impossible. There’s optic trunk lines buried right through the continental landmass and we monitor satellite traffic from up here. I haven’t gotten a report of any satellites being down.” Bloom unstrapped herself from her chair, drifting away from her desk.

“I’m on my way.” She pushed her way up to the airlock leading from her office and from there left, into the command module.

“Colonel on deck!” the duty officer called. Bloom made her way to the command and control station that was monitoring the flow of communications to and from Concord 3.

“What is the situation?” Bloom asked, after returning the Lieutenant’s salute.

“Well Ma’am, as I said, it looks as though that Grid service to the area comprising the Laguna District and surrounding communities has been completely cut off. There’s no discernible activity, whatsoever.”

“That’s impossible,” Bloom reiterated, “Every single substation, communication central office, microwave and radio transmission relay tower…all of it would have had to have gone down, at once.”

“Lieutenant-Colonel,” the duty officer called, “You have an incoming linx from General Harrod of the DIA.” Bloom turned to the young major, a look of disbelief on her face.

“You’re kidding me, right, Major?”

“No, Ma’am,” She replied.

“What in Hell is the head of the DIA doing, calling me?” She moved back towards the hatch.

“I’ll take it in my office.”

Back in her office, Bloom unrolled the viewscreen from her console. A minicam built into the screen transmitted her image directly to General Harrod’s office.