Hive Mind

38

What if the things we read about on the fringe of the internet and in the unusual book where in fact real?

Do you remember Jade Helm? It was a real military exercise that occurred on US soil. There was significant discussion about it, but I heard one point of view that was intriguing. The human element in the chain of command of a military can be a weakness. Humans can hesitate. What if Jade Helm was one trial in a list of many that was designed to take the human element out of the chain of command. What if Jade Helm was actually a trial run to develop an artificial military logistical intelligence? They’ve also grown human nerve cells on silicon computer chips. That success was reported a number of years back. Now put the two together. What if the military has a rudimentary cyborg technology married with an artificial intelligence for command and control?

Ancient texts talk of another race of beings that interfaced with humans long ago. Their planetary system flies by our world roughly every 3500 years. According to Zecharia Sitchin, Sumerian texts which predate the bible give a complete description of this system, the inhabitants of that system and even where humans came from and why. Stichin had an interview with astronomer Dr. Robert Harrington in the mid-1990’s, where Dr. Harrington confirmed from his observations another planet(s) orbited our sun in an extended orbit canted from our planetary systems ecliptic. Dr. Harrington died shortly after the interview. Even with Dr. Harrington’s corroborating data people say Sitchin was wrong, but what if he is right? How can a text so old written by a people long forgotten describe all the planets? Yes, even Pluto. Now consider that the government built an infrared telescope at the South Pole. Some say it was built there to get away from pollution. Maybe. When you consider Sitchin’s work and Dr. Harrington’s work, there was a reason for them to build the telescope at that location. The South Pole makes sense if it is to observe an incoming dwarf star and planetary system coming up from the South. Back in the 1980’s a celestial body millions of miles away was in fact spotted. It was reported on twice that I can remember and then never reported on again. It was headed our way, and it would seem the government has been getting ready since its discovery. With all the earth changes currently taking place in addition to the increased meteor activity, one could argue that the other system spotted in the 80’s, and confirmed by Dr. Harrington in the 1990’s, is getting close.

Sitchin argued in his works that humans were a genetically created species to mine gold for the Anunnaki, the race that inhabits the other system. It is fascinating that those who buy into the theory that humans were a genetic creation say it proves the whole idea of God is false. All it really proves is that our understanding of history is false and maybe in some ways strengthens the argument for God.

The risk in any action is the reaction, or in some cases the unintended consequences. Specifically, what if the Anunnaki’s efforts had unintended consequences when the human race was developed? Have you ever heard the phrase people plan, God laughs? What if God was laughing at the hubris of the Anunnaki? What if the humans, a lower race from the Anunnaki’s perspective, were given the ability to consciously connect with something outside themselves, something that the Anunnaki had desired and hunted for since the creation of their race. If this were true, the higher authority would have the last laugh by giving humans a psychic gift of great value, a gift that would ultimately set them free.

What if it all were real?

HPS-144 opened his eyes, spitting dirt. His ears rang loudly as he pushed himself up on his knees and shoved the noise attenuators back in his ears. He wiped the grit from his face and scanned the area, not sure where he was. The ground around him shook violently as bricks and jagged pieces of metal and glass flew. The smoke from explosives and burning buildings filled his lungs. His head felt thick from the concussion, the back of his head tingling strangely. He checked the status display on his left forearm. The mini-computer didn’t look damaged. Tapping on the screen, he flipped through the readout pages. The human interfaced virtual enhancement (HIVE) interlink status was green. Pain mitigation protocol showed yellow with four hours remaining, and the upped pain interdiction was kicking in taking the edge off his leg. He was functional. His rifle lay near him. Grabbing it, he replaced the magazine with a fresh one and cycled the bolt. Ammo was running low; he had only two full mags left.

What was left of his squad had taken positions around the red brick insurance building and down the street near the plaza. Two other squads of his platoon had also taken scattered positions around what was left of the old main street in Mason, Ohio. The once pleasant town now lay in ruins. Burned out and blasted hulks that had once been buildings and cars rose from the scorched earth, creating a desolate battleground of dust and death.

Some distance down the road he could barely make out the five Naks advancing through the smoke. Their full body armor was heavily battle-scarred. Standing at nine to ten feet tall, the massively built Naks looked like walking tanks. The largest, most aggressive and most heavily armored Naks of a pod were always in the open leading the others. The balance would work up from behind, staying hidden and looking for the next ambush. Two black triangular scout ships floated in the distance, plasma cannons firing again and again at ground and air targets. The five leading the advance roared their aggression as they approached. Sometimes growling or screaming like animals not of earth, sometimes yelling threats in broken English, their voices deep and unbelievably loud.

144 confirm status, a gentle voice asked in his head. The female voice of the military artificial intelligence was familiar, almost comforting. Regardless of the order given, he and everyone else within the HIVE platoon complied without question or hesitation.

Status green, he responded in his thoughts.

Confirmed. 144 battle-active. Twelve targets identified. Tracking, scattered locations, one hundred twenty yards south your position. Five leads moving north, Route 42. Seven scattered at ten-yard intervals east and west, also moving north toward your position. Move twenty-five yards east. Hold position and defend, the AI said.

The Naks picked up the remains of a Volkswagen and threw it into a building off to his right. The front of the building crushed from the impact, at which the rest of the structure imploded. The five laughed loudly as they continued up the street. Blazoned on the armor chest plates were brilliant cobalt blue feathers, highlighted with iridescent green and a jet black spine.

His left leg still didn’t want to work. He was bleeding heavily below the knee. Pulling out a compression wrap from his med kit, he strapped it around his leg and cinched it tight. He put everything he had into getting to his feet, but as soon as he was up the Nak left of center fired his plasma rifle. He dove back to the ground as the softball-sized, black-centered, crackling blue ball of energy sailed by. Some distance behind him, there was a thunderclap as the energy ball hit a building and disintegrated a portion of the wall. Up again he pushed himself, trying to run and make his target before another shot sailed his way. He reached the sidewalk that wrapped around a short brick retaining wall just west of the center of the town when a second shot flew over his head. He returned fire with two three-shot bursts, not bothering to aim.

144 hold fire until primaries are within fifty yards, the voice whispered in his mind. I shouldn’t have to remind you to target visor, throat, and joint junctures for maximum effect.

Affirmative, he thought back. Looking to the computer screen on his arm, he touched the menu, flipping the display to the proximity readout. A rudimentary map of the town displayed with each of the Naks, both seen and unseen, represented as actively moving icons. The lead Naks were already at seventy-five yards. His platoon was represented on the small screen by a HIVE insignia followed by the soldier’s number. 150, 151, and 152 icons were red. All three were located near where he had just run from. If he had been twenty feet further to the left, the plasma burst would have taken him out too. Even though he could see the other numbers on the screen, he looked over to the small store plaza thirty yards to the south-west. In the darkness of the interior he could see a helmet.

144 your thoughts are misaligned, focus on objective. Additional HIVE link catalyst being introduced.

No sooner had the voice finished the statement than 144 felt the change. Feelings about others instantly drifted off like a dream. The only thing of importance was successful execution of the operation.

144 monitored his scanner as he watched down the road. When the Naks were within fifty yards, he instantly knew what to do as the AI directly downloaded orders. Acting as one, controlled by the central battle AI at the other end of the HIVE link, small arms fire commenced from every direction simultaneously. Sparks flew off Nak armor as the steel core bullets made impact. Bullets and plasma exploded in a frenzy, and above it all the Naks laughed. The report of a .50 caliber Barrett rifle sounded from the store plaza. The round penetrated the lower helmet base of the Nak nearest the plaza. Bloody material exploded from every opening of the Nak’s helmet. The huge humanoid dropped to his knees, and then fell forward face first to the ground. The lead Nak roared in rage and fired multiple plasma rifle shots into the store. The building erupted in a black-blue cloud of churning plasma, turning it into dust.

The platoon shifted their fire to focus onto the lead Nak. 144 opened up on cue with the others. In seconds, his magazine was empty. The Naks were careful to protect the weaknesses in their armor. With all the rounds fired, there seemed little effect. He dropped back, completed a magazine change, and was about to reengage when he stopped. At first he thought it was the voice of the AI, but it was different. He shook his head, turned, and started firing again, aiming for the eye shield of the targeted Nak. He pulled a hand grenade from his belt, yanked out the pin, and let it fly. The grenade exploded just below the Nak’s right knee, blowing him backward off his feet. 144 shouldered his rifle, but stopped again. It was there in his mind. There were no words. It was a feeling. He turned to the small plaza where the store once stood. Crawling out from behind the wreckage of the building was HPS-156. 144 shook his head again and blinked heavily.

144 remain on station. Hold position and defend.

The AI’s order was clear. All he knew was to hold position, turn, and shoot, but there was something in the back of his mind. It was as real as the world around him, but outside of the HIVE collective. Whatever it was, it was telling him to move. Turning back to the battle, he unloaded half of the new magazine as he jumped up into a sprint. He ran toward 156 with everything he had.

144 you must hold position. You are not authorized. Motor control initiated.

He stumbled as his muscles fought him. The AI tried to take control of his body with intermittent success. His movements became jerky and awkward as the two minds fought for control of his body. A plasma shot sailed past. 144 pressed on, forcing his limbs to work. 156 was alive, but if he didn’t get to her in time she would die. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.

He dove to the ground as an explosion lit off behind him. He crawled over to 156 and rolled her over. She was unconscious, bleeding badly from cuts on her face, chest, and arms. Pulling the Barrett to him, he set it up on the bipod.

144 terminate action. Return to position. Independent action is not authorized.

The remaining lead Naks were almost on him. 144 pulled the trigger again and again, emptying what was left of the Barrett’s ten round magazine. The .50 caliber rounds blew through the Nak body armor. Two were down, two more were injured, but the others of the pod continued to advance. Another explosion to his right rolled him over. Blood flowed down his face as he wiped it from his eye. Scrambling back to 156 he spotted another of the smaller Naks heading toward him from out of hiding, plasma rifle at the ready. 144 emptied the magazine of his duty rifle at the Nak’s helmet, finally dropping him. The part of himself outside the AI control was filled with fear, but then he heard the whisper in his ear.

144, dual input is not authorized. HIVE command and control inter-link verified. 144, terminate secondary input. Repeat. Terminate secondary input.

He continued to ignore the AI. His rifles empty, he reached down to his belt and 156’s belt, pulled out their last six grenades, yanked the pins and tossed them.

Alan jerked violently in his bed, the remnants of the dream explosions still reverberating in his head. As he lay there, he scrubbed his face with the sheet to wipe off the sweat. Rolling over he checked the clock. Four o’clock in the morning, right on cue. Every night was the same. He got up, sitting on the edge of the bed. He ran his hands through his disheveled hair as he thought of her. Getting up he went down the hall to the bathroom. Pulling the curtain back, the world glowed pale orange, awash in dim light from the setting Nak sun. He let the curtain fall, still not used to having two suns in the sky. He turned on the cold water, scooping it up with his hands, flooding his face. Grabbing his washcloth, he wiped down his face and neck. It felt good.

Even in the dark he looked like hell. His face had thinned, as had the rest of his six foot four frame. He wasn’t as muscled as he had been in the military. He’d let himself go, but he didn’t care. His dark brown eyes looked darker than usual with black shadows underneath, surrounded by deep lines. A singular scar traversed down the right side of his face from his temple to his chin, one of the lasting physical reminders of the battle that day. The long, unkempt brown hair gave him a younger look than the lines in his face would have implied. He looked more like a college student after a rough party, than a twenty-seven-year-old Marine veteran. So much had changed in such a short time. It had been two years since the last battle, yet the dreams were just as real. He was still HIVE Peripheral Soldier 144. The physical wounds may have healed from that day, but all the scars remained.

He went back to the bed and sat down on the edge, turning on the lamp. Opening the drawer of the bedside table he pulled out a well-worn framed picture. The beautiful brown-eyed, brown-haired girl in the picture smiled widely back at him. Beth 156 had survived that day thanks to him, only to die a week later in a firefight outside of Blue Ash Park as he lay in a hospital bed recovering from his injuries. They had saved his leg, but he had lost his wife. They had been married six months before they joined the Marines and became part of the HIVE program together. A year later she was gone and he was discharged from service for disobeying the direct orders of the state of the art HIVE artificial intelligence. He carefully touched the glass with his fingertips, wishing they could touch her once again. The emptiness he felt with her loss was worse than any pain the Naks had ever caused him.

Alan put the picture away and walked out to the balcony of his apartment. A cool breeze blew through the trees. All the apartments around him were dark. The moon shone bright with an orange glow in the western sky, illuminated by Sol and the Nak sun to the south. Meteors streaked through the sky above him, flashing and flaring brightly as they burned out. He held his ears as one lit up the world with an explosion. He chuckled with the noise, as the lights in the other apartments started to turn on. Everyone else’s day had just started early too.

Walking back inside, he flipped on the television, went to the kitchen and made a coffee. He knew better than to try for another hour of sleep. Once he had the dream, there was no going back. Alan sat down on the couch and flipped on the news. The latest hit and run had been outside New York City. The news video showed the black triangular Nak scout ships hovering over a section of freeway as Naks on the ground rounded people up. The Naks had opened mining operations around the world, and they needed diggers. Rescue attempts had been made, but so far no military had been successful at liberating a mine without all the people ending up dead. The world had acquiesced that once taken to a mine, the people never came back.

He flipped through the channels. The talking head was reporting on the success of a HIVE Marine operation down in Florida. Pictures of dead Naks on a busted up freeway filled the screen. Charts flashed up on the screen next to the announcer. The HIVE program was the latest in battle technology, an outgrowth of the Jade programs. It had finally integrated battle AI technology with the minds of human troops. That rudimentary cyborg technology had put the Naks in check—at least that was the narrative. Alan chuckled at how the reporters spun the discussion as he remembered what it had been like. Overwhelming fear had gripped the world on a global scale—the breakdown of society and ultimately the collapse of dogmatic religion. Anunnaki, the fallen angels of the bible, had returned the devout said, but institutional religion fell away as the people saw the truth of it. The supposed Anunnaki were just flesh and bone from another world that could be killed. As the stigma fell away, so did the name. Anunnaki shortened to Nak, and it stuck. In only two short years HIVE had had been rolled out, worlds were at war, and Alan had been part of it.

He sipped his coffee when another rumble from an exploding meteor shook his apartment. The announcer shifted to other news. Riots continued in most cities with unchecked looting. Murders were through the roof, even in Cincinnati. Everyone was living for the moment, not knowing if they would make it tomorrow. Alan turned off the television, regretting that he had turned it on. The world was slowly going further down the drain the closer the Nak system got. He took the empty coffee mug to the kitchen to get ready for work.

As he took his shower, he was thankful that he was better off than most. As an electronics test engineer he had skills the government needed, particularly with his HIVE background. At least he could pay his bills, and given the old car and the cheap one-bedroom apartment he had, there was nothing to steal. The world for the most part left him alone.

The sound of a freight train grew around him as he walked to his old Jeep. It was a sound Alan had become accustomed to. It grew closer, hitting a bang as the ground moved, undulating under his feet. The temblor rolled through the ground in waves. He opened the Jeep door watching the apartment building as he waited to see how bad the temblor would get.

As he waited, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Off to the north the clouds were particularly heavy. Fading in and out of the moving clouds was a Nak scout ship. The black triangle floated silently in the sky, holding its position. Looking back to the building it was still standing and no new wall cracks had appeared. He still had a home to come home to tonight. If the ship stayed where it was, he would make it to work without any hassle, but it was strange to see one this far south in Ohio. He climbed in the Jeep, fired up the engine, and headed out to Montgomery road.

Hey Halifax!

Alan looked up from the test stand. Hey. What’s up Brian?

You bout done with that module test? I was going to run out for lunch. I’m tired of the stale excuses for sandwiches loaded in the machines around here. Wanna go?

Sure. The diagnostic will run on its own. I’ll finish the other prep when I get back.

Brian was over a head shorter than Alan, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a significant mustache. They had known each other since grade school. Being under six feet tall, Brian always tried to compensate for his stature with an aggressive demeanor and well-built physique. They became friends after Alan beat up another kid that had decided to use Brian as a soccer ball. Brian had since returned the favor for Alan on more than one occasion in high school. Brian had attempted to get into the HIVE program with Alan and Beth, but he didn’t pass. Not everyone’s mind would sync up with the computer.

You drive. I’m tired. Didn’t sleep well again last night, Alan said as they walked out to the parking lot.

They got into Brian’s Mustang. The car fired to life with a loud rumble.

Sorry bud. You ain’t gettin any sleep with me drivin, Brian said as he smiled big under the handlebar mustache.

You know you really look stupid with that. When are you going to shave that thing?

Never! Brian said flatly as he put the Mustang in first gear and popped the clutch. The tires chirped as he raced out of the parking lot. Wanna do Skyline?

Yeah, that’s fine. We haven’t done it in a while, Alan said, as he put his head back and closed his eyes.

Brian hit the brakes hard and then floored the accelerator breaking the tires loose with a screeching squeal as he got on the Interstate 275 access ramp.

You’re a real ass. You know that?

Brian laughed. Good thing you’re a friend. I would have punched you for calling me an ass otherwise.

Alan smiled as he put his head back and closed his eyes again. All he could think about was the dream. All his other friends were gone, some moving to other parts of the country looking for safety, and most dead from the war. Brian was the only one left in Cincinnati. Life had been turned upside down.

The Mustang’s engine spooled down as Brian pulled off the highway onto the Route 42 exit ramp. They were just coming up on the turning lanes when multiple bluish reflections in the passenger window caught Alan’s attention. He quickly looked left, past Brian, and watched the Route 42 bridge in front of them erupt in a cloud of debris interlaced with blue-black plasma. Instinctively he grabbed Brian by the collar and pulled him down as he ducked low behind the dash.

Glass shattered as the Mustang was lifted off its tires when the pressure wave of the explosion hit. The car slammed into a mini-van that had been in the lane next to them exploding all the air-bags simultaneously. The car flew up, flipping over the top of the van. The sound of scraping, tearing metal, and plastic filled his ears. Concrete and other debris pelted the Mustang like hail. The car came to a stop upside down against the rise on the south side of the exit ramp. Explosions erupted all around. The gas station on the opposite side of the street from the exit ramp onto Reading Road exploded in a fireball.

Brian! You OK? Alan hit the belt latch and dropped to the roof of the car.

Holy shit! What just happened? Brian shook his head. Blood dripped from multiple cuts on his face from the shattered glass.

The Naks took out the fucking bridge and part of the highway. We’ve got to get out of the car, Alan said.

Car? My car! What did they do to my beautiful car?

You’re still alive asshole, so don’t start bitchin about your damn car! We have to find cover!

The car was sitting in a depression, up against thick brush. Alan kicked out the remains of the windshield and crawled out to the grass. Brian dropped from the seat and made his way out, crawling up next to Alan.

The Nak scout ship hovered silently above where the bridge used to be, with