Just a short story
I wrote this for a little contest that John Scalzi was having over on Whatever, and then I realized that it didn't really fit what he was looking for. I kind of liked it anyway, so I thought I'd post it here. I haven't written anything in ages, so it was fun to do.
It's strange to think that children nowadays ask why August 19th was important. It was 14 years ago, but to everyone who lived it, it seems like yesterday, or last week, or last year. Certainly it doesn't feel like it's been more than a decade. We who were there live by the strictures given to us that day, but the children were born into it, and don't understand what the world was like before.
The 19th was a Friday, everyone was getting ready for their weekend, traveling home from their various workplaces, probably hardly noticing the traffic around them, like drones, or sheep. The event's epicenter, for lack of a better word, was found later to be in a small New England town only about an hour north of Boston, where at precisely 5:02 PM EST, one person stopped their car in the middle of the road. Thirty seconds later, all of the cars in the small town were still. Two minutes, and the waves of stillness had reached Boston itself, and it would gather speed and momentum until, after approximately ten minutes, not a vehicle moved in the world. It was discovered later that even in the smaller, more disconnected parts of the planet, the phenomenon had occurred. Horse- and human-drawn carts had halted where they were.
People tried to restart their cars, to encourage their horses to walk forward again. A man interviewed in Africa, who had been drawing a cart himself, claimed that it was as though his legs would just no longer obey him, not until he let go of the cart handles.
The next reaction was panic, although this first wave did not last long. People ran only ten or twenty yards before they were stopped in their tracks by the Voice.
You have come far, it said. It was quiet, but easily heard by every person in the world, not drowned out by other peoples' voices, or by water, or by machinery. It was heard by all, and understood by all. Too far.
It was then that every light, every machine, every thing powered by electricity, steam, gas, coal or wind shut down. Half of the world hardly noticed at the time it happened. The other half was plunged suddenly into darkness. The second wave of panic might have begun then, if the Voice had not continued.
These things are not necessary. We did not give these to you, we did not intend for you to use your little world this way. The strange cadences of the Voice still ring in my mind. It was starting to sound agitated, maybe angry. I remember crouching down next to my car door, not wanting it to be angry, but it continued anyway. You were to be our salvation! You were not to repeat-- It cut off abruptly, and we wondered for a moment if it had gone.
It had not. Perhaps it had taken a step back, surveyed the planet, counted to ten, made a decision. When it returned, it sounded calm once again. You will not use these anymore.
There was no warning, no possibility of escape. Nearly one-third of the human population died in an instant as every piece of machinery on the planet exploded in fiery clouds. I was lucky to survive with only burns. I don't like to think about the people who had never left their cars. I saw too many of them on the road, later.
Amidst the screaming of the dying, the Voice continued calmly, still heard by all. You will not rebuild these. You will never build anything like them. You will be pure, and if you are not, when I return, you will once again be purified. Do not fail me.
And then it was gone.
That was when the second wave of panic hit. It wasn't until later, when the screams died down and the running stopped, that it was discovered that every single one of the top scientists and engineers in the world had fallen dead where they stood, along with hundreds of university professors, lying still for no reason, hearts and minds just stopped. To prevent us from having the knowledge to build again, I suppose.
Nobody knows from whence the Voice came. Some believe it was the Voice of God, and have built a religion around it, all of its members swearing vows of silence upon entry so that they will not miss hearing the Voice, should it ever choose to speak again. Others believe it was an alien voice, visitors from another part of the universe, technologically superior and not wanting us to join them. Some people believe it was the Russians, finding a way to end the Cold War once and for all. Those people are not usually listened to. But no matter what you believe, all of us live differently now.
We try not to discuss things like machines and cars with our children, because we are afraid to give them ideas. Sometimes, though, when I am walking with my little girl, carrying whatever we have purchased or are selling in town, she'll look thoughtful, and tell me of a new, easier way that she is inventing for starting the cookfires at night, and I'll admonish her sharply, assuring her that things are better the way they are now, that we don't need easier ways. She'll nod, and move on to a new subject, but I see that spark remain in her eyes, and it gives me hope. It is difficult for those of us who were there on that day to even think about electricity, but when we are old and gone, perhaps the young ones can rebuild what we cannot. Perhaps the next time the Voice visits, it will find humans already gone from this planet, searching the stars on their own, unwilling to yield the advances they've made, and able to protect them.
Perhaps.
It's strange to think that children nowadays ask why August 19th was important. It was 14 years ago, but to everyone who lived it, it seems like yesterday, or last week, or last year. Certainly it doesn't feel like it's been more than a decade. We who were there live by the strictures given to us that day, but the children were born into it, and don't understand what the world was like before.
The 19th was a Friday, everyone was getting ready for their weekend, traveling home from their various workplaces, probably hardly noticing the traffic around them, like drones, or sheep. The event's epicenter, for lack of a better word, was found later to be in a small New England town only about an hour north of Boston, where at precisely 5:02 PM EST, one person stopped their car in the middle of the road. Thirty seconds later, all of the cars in the small town were still. Two minutes, and the waves of stillness had reached Boston itself, and it would gather speed and momentum until, after approximately ten minutes, not a vehicle moved in the world. It was discovered later that even in the smaller, more disconnected parts of the planet, the phenomenon had occurred. Horse- and human-drawn carts had halted where they were.
People tried to restart their cars, to encourage their horses to walk forward again. A man interviewed in Africa, who had been drawing a cart himself, claimed that it was as though his legs would just no longer obey him, not until he let go of the cart handles.
The next reaction was panic, although this first wave did not last long. People ran only ten or twenty yards before they were stopped in their tracks by the Voice.
You have come far, it said. It was quiet, but easily heard by every person in the world, not drowned out by other peoples' voices, or by water, or by machinery. It was heard by all, and understood by all. Too far.
It was then that every light, every machine, every thing powered by electricity, steam, gas, coal or wind shut down. Half of the world hardly noticed at the time it happened. The other half was plunged suddenly into darkness. The second wave of panic might have begun then, if the Voice had not continued.
These things are not necessary. We did not give these to you, we did not intend for you to use your little world this way. The strange cadences of the Voice still ring in my mind. It was starting to sound agitated, maybe angry. I remember crouching down next to my car door, not wanting it to be angry, but it continued anyway. You were to be our salvation! You were not to repeat-- It cut off abruptly, and we wondered for a moment if it had gone.
It had not. Perhaps it had taken a step back, surveyed the planet, counted to ten, made a decision. When it returned, it sounded calm once again. You will not use these anymore.
There was no warning, no possibility of escape. Nearly one-third of the human population died in an instant as every piece of machinery on the planet exploded in fiery clouds. I was lucky to survive with only burns. I don't like to think about the people who had never left their cars. I saw too many of them on the road, later.
Amidst the screaming of the dying, the Voice continued calmly, still heard by all. You will not rebuild these. You will never build anything like them. You will be pure, and if you are not, when I return, you will once again be purified. Do not fail me.
And then it was gone.
That was when the second wave of panic hit. It wasn't until later, when the screams died down and the running stopped, that it was discovered that every single one of the top scientists and engineers in the world had fallen dead where they stood, along with hundreds of university professors, lying still for no reason, hearts and minds just stopped. To prevent us from having the knowledge to build again, I suppose.
Nobody knows from whence the Voice came. Some believe it was the Voice of God, and have built a religion around it, all of its members swearing vows of silence upon entry so that they will not miss hearing the Voice, should it ever choose to speak again. Others believe it was an alien voice, visitors from another part of the universe, technologically superior and not wanting us to join them. Some people believe it was the Russians, finding a way to end the Cold War once and for all. Those people are not usually listened to. But no matter what you believe, all of us live differently now.
We try not to discuss things like machines and cars with our children, because we are afraid to give them ideas. Sometimes, though, when I am walking with my little girl, carrying whatever we have purchased or are selling in town, she'll look thoughtful, and tell me of a new, easier way that she is inventing for starting the cookfires at night, and I'll admonish her sharply, assuring her that things are better the way they are now, that we don't need easier ways. She'll nod, and move on to a new subject, but I see that spark remain in her eyes, and it gives me hope. It is difficult for those of us who were there on that day to even think about electricity, but when we are old and gone, perhaps the young ones can rebuild what we cannot. Perhaps the next time the Voice visits, it will find humans already gone from this planet, searching the stars on their own, unwilling to yield the advances they've made, and able to protect them.
Perhaps.