Author: Alexander Fawn

The Reversion Project was all very hush-hush.

Housed in a warehouse on the edge of the town’s industrial estate, it was just another building. No attention was given to the small staff that arrived each morning. It was just another business. Nobody was aware of the team of five scientists changing into laboratory coats and entering the main laboratory to further their research. It had taken them several years to come close to their objective. Field agents had spent a great deal of time gathering the necessary coordinates for the project. Once the location of every missile launch facility, in all those countries around the world that had them was recorded, their work had begun in earnest. The massive job of developing the software that would incorporate this information was almost finished.

Meanwhile, under similarly strict levels of secrecy, tests had been carried out on a minimal scale to prove the accuracy and success of the program. These were relatively short-range missile test-flights, to prove that the computer’s software program actually worked. These preliminary test-flights were carried out primarily to ensure that on immediate launch, the signal used, successfully found its mark.

Needless to say, these demonstrations were held in an environment of tight security, at a secret location known only by a few.

On the day, a small party of highly-placed spectators witnessed the missile come into view. It was destined to destroy a small abandoned building located a few kilometres from where they stood.

Suddenly, the missile swooped around in a wide arc and returned to the launch site it had come from. Although the party couldn’t see it, they heard the explosion and soon after that were able to make out a pillar of black smoke rising from the destroyed launch pad.

After a period of spontaneous applause and excited chattering among the observers, the Prime Minister approached the Military Commander and shook his hand. After the perfunctory congratulations, and being told that the software program itself was held in a secret underground location, in a facility that was for all intents and purposes, impregnable, the head of government said, “This is wonderful, of course, but I do have a reservation concerning its use.”

The military man raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Well, yes,” replied the other, “my concern is that when the first missile is launched from anywhere, to anywhere, won’t this lead to war?”

The military man raised his eyebrows. “The first, you say?” He shook his head. “I doubt that there’ll be a first. When the world powers find out that we have this technology, and they will find out, I doubt very much that there’ll be a first.”

Taking a deep breath, he said, “Just think about it.”

It wandered along the street, looking for a house.

As it turned the corner it could see a blue flashing light. Two detectives were climbing out of the car as it approached. Something was obviously going on, but it had no idea what. Moving closer, it saw the number 28. It was the right house. They were walking in, and one of them was saying something about the policeman who called it in was there at the scene and how a neighbour had reported the disturbance. It drifted along behind them.

Entering the house, it followed them up the stairs to a bedroom. Other people were there, clad in white, moving around the room. Some seemed to be dusting for fingerprints while others were making notes. It rose up and hovered over the bed. It found itself looking down at a woman who had obviously been shot. It was then that it realised that the dead woman was a version of itself, when it was still alive!

In that moment, it found nothing but confusion. None of what was happening, none of what it was experiencing, made any sense at all! Why was it witnessing any of these events? Was there some unknown purpose for its being there? What was it supposed to do? With all these unanswerable chaotic thoughts and questions hanging unresolved, it floated back down and out of the house.

There was a definite feeling of relief, as it glided back up the street and turned the corner, away from all the chaos. Maybe, it conjectured, this is why spirits like itself seemed to be stuck; not able to move on. Not because they want vengeance or some sort of justice about what had occurred. No, its because these pour souls don’t have a clue about what’s going on.

In short, they are simply discombobulated!

He was their new live-in gardener.

His references had been checked by the Safe Hands Agency. He had rooms above the garage. His first couple of weeks on the job had shown him to be a diligent worker. Within no time he had already done a lot to improve the look of the place. It was around this time, sitting up in his room, that he began thinking about his upcoming plan. He had really enjoyed his most recent position; in another place, in another town. He thought about how simple it had been.

He had poisoned the daughter’s pet hamster, as a sort of warm-up event. Then, two days later, when the family was out for the day, he had set light to the house, changed his name and gone looking for work elsewhere.

This family had a cat. He would make an exception there. He would make sure it stayed safe.

He liked cats.

Looking back, it is now easy to see where it was all heading.

At one point, it had become obvious to the scientific community that artificial intelligence had just about reached its peak. With ever-growing concerns regarding the obvious ethical considerations of AI’s potential to go beyond human intelligence, it became inevitable that this would loom large in the human psyche. Throughout the decades, the shift in much greater priorities being given to the development of AI had grown exponentially, and the attention of the everyday man-in-the-street regarding its future and progress, had grown along with it. Many forms of human employment were soon replaced throughout both industry and administration, creating enormous job losses. This paradigm shift brought with it a huge sideways movement in the world’s economy.

Over time, it became manifest that the modern-day rationalists involved in both academia and government had become enormously influential. Then, before we knew it, it became evident that AI could take over such things as financial systems, electrical power grids; in fact, for better or for worse, any and all essential systems.

So, with vast global increases in death rates, along with plummeting birth rates, graphs of these statistics had become such regular features in newspaper articles; that ‘where do we go from here’, became a popular phrase.

In more recent times, this phrase seems to have been superseded by the warning, ‘I told you so.’

Lava lamps had fascinated him ever since his childhood.

This was how it happened that he had walked into the shop out of curiosity more than anything. He was a little uncomfortable doing it. After all, he was a professional medical man. Some of the items it sold were definitely rated as adult only and his clinic was adjacent to the shopping centre. He felt sure that not too many people wearing suits would frequent the place. Was he being a prig or a snob? He didn’t know, but he slipped in quietly to get a better look at the range of coloured lamps. Hey! He may even buy one. The shop mainly sold cigarettes, cigarette cases, tobacco, cigars and lighters, but it also carried a large range of fun stuff. Everything from adult board games to saucy wall plaques and mugs with rude slogans on them.

When the man behind the counter asked how he could help, he explained he just wanted to browse. Being told to go right ahead, he wandered down the aisle looking at the great variety of products; many of them he’d not come across before.

He was looking at the selection of lava lamps when the boy came in. He was probably around seven or eight, but not accompanied by a parent. He seemed to be in a hurry. He probably thought he was the only customer in the shop. He obviously knew the shopkeeper, calling him by his name and asking for a packet of twenty reds, whatever they were.

The professional man froze.

It wasn’t the fact that he was a minor, or that he was on his own and asking for cigarettes that gave him a shock. No, it was the fact that the youth had a gravelly, chain-smoking voice. It was a rough and harsh voice of a fifty-year-old woman

He’d never come across a case like it.

After a moment or two he heard the man drop his voice, he said, “Look, I wish you wouldn’t come in here like this… you know, like this!

In the ageing raspy voice, the boy said, “I know, but I’ve got to have my cigs, haven’t I? Besides, you’re the cheapest in town.”

The man said, “Yes, but like this? You realise I could lose my licence for selling cigarettes to a minor. Can’t you get it sorted out?”

The boy said, “I’m trying, believe me!”

At this point, the man, having heard the conversation, inadvertently made a clatter placing a lava lamp back on the shelf, drawing attention to himself. He gave a polite cough and came forward.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I do hope you don’t think I’m being too forward with this, but I happen to be a speech therapist. I have rooms near here. I couldn’t help overhearing and I really think I could help you.”

In the same, deep, woman’s voice, the boy said, “Ah! And you would know all about breaking body-swap spells, would you?”

With that, the boy sneered, slid his payment across the counter, picked up the packet and left the shop, shouting “Jerk!” over his shoulder.

The man in the suit slipped away as quietly as he had entered.

It had been one of those quiet evenings he really enjoyed.

It was just the two of them for once. She painted, while he read. However, it hadn’t been long before he’d given up on the book he’d been reading. He had just sat, watching her paint. Suddenly, she had begun to shake her head. The brush had hung loose in her hand. She had just sat there frowning at what she had done. In that moment, he had wondered whether he should say anything? He knew it hadn’t always gone well. Cautiously, he had crossed to where she was sitting. With the very best of intentions, he had gently offered a few words of advice about how she should proceed.

At this point, she began to sob, just as the front door opened.

The woman, looking annoyed, came into the room and knelt down next to her six-year-old. Putting her arm around the child, his wife turned and looked up at him. Her husband gave a shrug.

She said, “You’ve been helping her again, haven’t you?”

He’d only been awake a few minutes.

It started when he was shaving. Those images from last night’s TV news report! The war, the devastation, collapsed buildings, people starving, families, children. Then, that one horrific scene that somehow got seared into his brain. He began slapping cold water onto his face to shake himself out of it. Then, later, on the ride into town, the thought of all those poor souls without food or water. Again, all through the morning, in the office, thoughts of what those people were going through. It all came flooding back, again and again. He found himself wondering what he could do. There was very little, of course. Nothing he did could possibly have any effect on a war that was raging in a different part of the world.

Seeing that it was close to lunchtime, he thought he could show some kind of solidarity with those who were suffering, by keeping today’s lunch simple. When he entered the nearby café, the one he usually went to, basically a burger joint, he didn’t order food straight away, the way he usually did. He only ordered a cappuccino and sat at a table where he could easily read the large menu board, up above the counter.

He normally had a burger with extras. He was looking at these; namely the extra cost of adding, Bacon, Cheese, Mushrooms, Tomatoes, Pickles, Lettuce, Jalapenos, Chilli, Mayo, Onion, avocado… It was at this point that he noticed the new special offer on a board sitting on the counter. It announced the half-price Mega Burger, with THE LOT! Tuesdays Only.

It was Tuesday.

He was a leader in the boy scouts and he played the pipe in the marching band.

On his way home from band practice, he called in at the supermarket. Somehow, he’d mislaid the short shopping list, but was sure he’d remember once he was in there. He parked and went in with his bags. Walking down the aisles, he had found the first few easy items. It has to be said that Peter simply loved peppers, particularly the pickled variety. His supply at home was very low, so he needed to build his stocks up again. He reckoned that he needed a quarter of a bushel, which was about two imperial gallons, that’s why he had brought an extremely large and very strong bag with him.

This extra-large bag was also really heavy so; after paying at the checkout, he wheeled the trolly out to his car and opened the boot. Getting back in the car, he found the shopping list. It had slipped down the side of his seat. He sat checking the items. He’d got everything on the list. Happy with that, he returned to the boot.

Back at the trolly, he immediately saw that his large bag was missing!

This begs the question, that if Peter the piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where’s the peck of pickled peppers that Peter the piper picked?

Although he’d been using his computer for years, he didn’t know about eggs.

Easter eggs, that is. Those sneaky bits of programming snuck in by software programmers, just for a lark. Hidden bits of code that make things happen when some weird set of key strokes, or more precisely, a command, is typed in at the keyboard. It’s just some bizarre activity that these people get up to. Go figure! Anyway, this guy simply hadn’t heard of them, until quite out of the blue the topic came up one weekend at his tennis club. One of his regular partners, a player that regularly lost when they played, told him about it in the changing room. This followed a game that saw him thoroughly beaten once more. Despite this, he was most informative on the subject, giving examples of where you could find them, hiding in places like Word, Excel and even Google Search.

He was so fascinated with the idea, that when he got home that day, he went straight to his computer and tried a couple. His friend had told him where he could find them.

Over the following days, with a bit of research on the Net, he found more and more hidden gems. At this point you could say that the whole thing had become an obsession. So much so, that when he caught up with this particular tennis partner again on the following weekend, he felt that he had to tell him all about it, after thrashing him yet again.

It was during this follow-up conversation that he was told that there were a number of truly spectacular easter eggs that were concealed on the dark web. In fact, he knew of one that he’d been given some time back, but had never tried himself. He was quick to point out that the dark web wasn’t really a good place to spend time in. He had never wanted to take the risk.

Despite this warning, the new easter egg enthusiast pressured the other to provide him with details for both entering that part of the web and the phrase he needed to type in to generate what sounded like a very special egg.

That same day, he planned to spend time delving into this latest adventure during the evening. He would need to follow the very specific instructions received in order to enter that veiled part of the internet. Then, he would have to have his wits about him once he was in there. It had been explained to him that it wasn’t a place where you wanted to make mistakes!

He felt the unrestrained excitement building during the afternoon. So much so, that when the time came to sit down at his computer, his fingers were trembling. Trying hard to steady himself against the growing sense of anticipation, he carefully followed the instructions that had been written down for him.

As he entered that part of the dark web he’d been directed to, his screen went dark. He supposed that made sense. Then, he meticulously entered the phrase he’d been given and waited. After a few seconds the screen went from dark to black. This was black, black. It was pitch-black, the sort of black you get when the computer is switched off. He sat wondering for a while whether this was the case, when a great heavy, red circle slowly formed. It filled the screen. Again, he sat staring at it. After several more, long moments passed, a group of extremely faint numbers began to appear inside the ring. They gradually became larger and sharper until clearly visible. Now, in large, bright red characters, it read ‘120’.

It was just a number: for the best part of a minute the image remained on his screen, giving him time to consider what it meant. He hadn’t made any progress on that score, when the number changed to ‘119’, then a moment later, to ‘118’…

It was at this point that he realised that these were seconds and they were counting down. He had a bad feeling about it. At the same time, he became aware of a smell. It was as though something was burning. Then, he looked on in horror as smoke began to rise from the machine. It was at this point that he felt that something pretty awful was about to take place! Seeing the counter now read ‘58’, he jumped up and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

He was in the lounge room when he heard the explosion.

Poverty comes in many forms.

Mother and daughter sit quietly in the kitchen when the doorbell sounds again. The woman puts her finger to her lips. For her child, she pretends it’s a game. After a spell of silence comes a loud knock. Moments later, another, even louder. The man’s voice announces that he is sorry, but no money means no groceries. Today, she will prepare a meal for them both, with what little she has.

She knows that their meagre food supply needs to be rationed carefully.

Elsewhere…

Mother and daughter sit among the rubble of where their house once stood. The rumble of distant explosions is ever present. They seem to be getting louder. The woman prepares a meal for them both, with what little she has.

She knows that their meagre food supply needs to be rationed carefully.