Black Box

BLACK BOX

  Brendan Parsons

  Copyright 2012 Brendan Parsons

  In 2085, all Dr Josef Hanson could do was stand and watch the Earth die; with its oceans tossed about and his New York home levelled in an instant. A meteor had struck with an impact more than a thousand times that of the bomb which landed on Hiroshima over a century before. Josef and nearly two dozen others were situated on the moon, taking in the terrible sight. Defence countermeasures had not protected the exposed Earth and possibly left Hanson’s company as the last survivors of humanity. Josef leaned on the thick glass shell of the moon base almost lifeless, besides a single teardrop slipping into each wrinkle. Now in his seventies, he’d seen too much life on his planet to feel relief of any kind. ‘No!’ said Josef, ‘No!! I—’ he trailed off and slumped to his knees in defeat. His mind drained of hope. He lay there without the pinch of his nervous system for what felt like a brief eternity. Soon, a shaky hand gripped his shoulder.

  ‘Father, there was nothing...’ said Louis, ‘nothing we could’ve done.’ He looked around, and then turned back to Josef, ‘they are looking to you for words of guidance, and they fear the future.’ Louis tightened his grip and pulled Josef away from Earth, which looked like it rippled as an ocean does. ‘Our project...’

  Josef recovered and nodded slowly. He propped himself upright with the help of his son and the window beside him. Josef walked passed mourners to the top of a stairwell. Louis came to a stop behind him, standing down one stair length to emphasise his father’s importance. ‘Everyone!’ said Josef.

  It wasn’t until Louis quickly said, ‘Listen up! Josef is speaking,’ that the others decided to listen, with what hope their conscience had kept.

  Josef cleared his throat and said, ‘The world as we know it has been destroyed. Anything we left behind is gone.’ He paused, ‘The governments of the globe who speculated the Earth could be saved were wrong. It is up to us to survive here on the moon base—’

  ‘—No, it can’t be,’ said someone over by the window.

  ‘Wait,’ said another, sounding desperate, ‘it’s still there!’

  Josef glanced at Louis and then shook his head as he moved back to address the crowd, ‘It’s probably going to be uninhabitable for years.’ Some gasped as he said it; others simply gave into their emotions. He continued to discuss with them how long the recovery process might take; estimating it could take even decades. Josef could feel all the eyes in the building watching him. Normally as a scientist he wouldn’t be the one making commands on the base, but his primary investor was now dead and someone had to take charge.

  ‘Well sir, what happens now?’

  ‘Curiosity has saved us,’ Josef finally said. ‘We are the future of the human race. And as you should be aware of by now, Chronicle was constructed decades ago for the preservation of our world’s combined history. Thirteen million years of extraordinary science, geology and lesser achievements survive in our historical databases.’

  ‘I thought this base was built for us richer folk to experience space life and replace fossil fuels with power from the sun? Something like that...’

  ‘Yes, and yes.’ said Louis, whose interjection frustrated Josef.

  Josef took a breath and said, ‘However; the solar energy towers and your residence here, are—my apologies—were, just a means of funding Edison Wright’s preservation project. That’s the main reason this base was designed. Edison and I both realised the potential of making a back-up, if you will, of everything worth recording throughout history.’

  ‘So this base is a lie?!’ said a woman, clearly agitated.

  ‘No, Chronicle is what saved us’ said Louis, ‘what it was designed to do.’

  ‘Saved?’ said one man. ‘Saved?!’ He was leaning on a window watching Earth, but twisted around and made his way towards Josef. ‘Wouldn’t you have rather died than have lost everything and everyone you ever cared about?!’

  Josef recalled his name then said, ‘I am just as saddened as you are Michael, but—’

  ‘—I doubt it.’

  Rage burned in Josef’s eyes, ‘You bastard!’ he met Michael down at the base of the stairs, ‘I lost everything too: my lab, my friends, my Nobel Prize!’

  Louis joined them on the lower level and said, ‘Break it up, this place is about history and, well; we have been given a second chance to write our own.’ He grabbed Michael, ‘but we all need to work together.’

  Michael quickly struggled and broke free of the grip and said, ‘There is nothing left for me here. How about you then?’ he nodded over to Louis, ‘What do you have left?’

  Louis looked around at the others then seemed determined, ‘Hope.’ Louis moved his gaze to his father and thought he caught a glimpse of Josef rolling his eyes.

  Michael threw his arms outwards in surrender and dragged himself back to stare outside at the Earth. The planet’s texture and shape continued to change as it vibrated itself into something alien.

  Josef collected himself and once again found a position at the highest step. ‘You must all realise that the knowledge stored here is like a blueprint to survival. We have been there before, we can do it again.’

  A religious man, Isaac raised his hands and said, ‘He’s right of course. God has blessed us with this opportunity to restart without sin and has shown us the way.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Louis, ‘Our most treasured material survives both in the library and on a supercomputer developed by my father that essentially—’

  Josef was alarmed at his son’s announcement. ‘No! Don’t tell them.’

  ‘They need to know.’

  ‘Shut up, boy...’

  ‘So,’ said Louis, ‘The library on base should be studied.’

  ‘What’s this about a computer?’ said one of the survivors.

  Louis instinctively swivelled to inspect the roof, and within seconds survivors started in the direction of a spiralled staircase that led to upper floors. Josef was stunned, but soon rushed to get in front of the ferocious crowd. First floor of Chronicle doubled as the observation lounge and library, and as they ran up the staircase they passed by the dining floor and living quarters. They stopped and entered level four, an area that to their prior knowledge had simply been a laboratory to monitor power output or to communicate with government officials on Earth. Now they figured if any supercomputer was on the base, it would be on this floor as the final level above housed an observatory.

  The room was sealed by the same glass shield as the outside of the base and required a fingerprint scan. The marble tiles looked less-aged than the main floor and were separated like squares by silver streaks between each tile. Each wall had a stylish glossy white coating. In the centre of level four was a large black contraption with an oversized screen fixed to it, though it looked sturdy. Josef pushed his way to the front and produced a pistol from his lab coat. ‘This area is classified and strictly off limits, it is only to be accessed by me,’ he said as he raised the weapon. ‘Permission must be received from Mr Wright, so that means you are all out of luck.’ He snarled and tightened on the trigger as someone stepped closer.

  Louis walked forward with his hands raised. ‘They’re scared and just want to know how it can help. We’re scared about the future. Please, tell them about the Black Box.’

  Josef studied the fear in the eyes of the people and soon nodded his head downward, ‘I apologize,’ he said as he holstered the gun, ‘Chronicle began with the Black Box Project.’ ‘That,’ he pointed, ‘is essentially a database that holds information on just about anything. It was developed by a team of forty scientists at my disposal. Edison and I wanted to make sure history was never forgotten.’

  Someone muttered something in Russian. They then said in English, ‘God-damn, so you really mea
nt it that you lot backed-up everything.’

  ‘Yes, every half-decade I spent a few months adding new data to the machine.’

  ‘Anything from the habitat of Elephants, to the latest music,’ added Louis. ‘Cartography and the most important world history were added first in 2050,’ he paused to emphasise its importance, ‘we were down to specifics now.’

  ‘Carto—’

  ‘Cartography,’ said Josef, ‘maps.’

  ‘Well those are fucking useless now,’ snapped Michael, who had also followed them.

  Louis stepped in front of Josef and teased a look of desperateness. ‘Don’t you see? We’re also reshaping. So we should study our history, give birth to children of tomorrow, and continue to do as we’ve done here since our boarding.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Getting used to a different lifestyle,’ said Josef. ‘The moon’s rotation will remain in its current form, so nothing should drastically change. We should still receive three-hundred and fifty-four hours of sunlight from at least one solar tower at all times. Thus we can still farm, and generate power,’ He inspected the survivors once more, and then said, ‘from this moment on; each individual should become an amateur scientist, teacher, nurse, or whatever else that can come out of library knowledge. You want to prosper and live. Do your part.’

  Louis overtook and spoke with a wise sincerity, he said, ‘Everyone, young or old, has the power to achieve great things in the time they are given; they just have to listen and do it.’