by Dwayne Phillips
San Francisco, June 2nd, 2AM
"Beautiful,"
she said as she pushed closer to the young man sitting on the blanket
next to
her.
"You
are," he replied.
"No, I mean,
thanks, but no, look up, look at the sky," she said.
"Oh,
that," he replied.
They were
watching slight but detectable streaks in the sky.
"What are
they?" she asked.
"Called
micrometeoroids," he replied. "About the size of a pebble, at least
that is what makes it through the atmosphere. By the time they hit the
ground
they are like a grain of rice or speck of sand."
"How'd you
know so much?" she asked.
"I'm
smart," he said. "After all, I was able to convince you to go to
dinner with me, so I must be smart."
The two laughed,
but miles to the south, pebbles from space sizzled on a rooftop in
Sunnyvale.
* * * * *
Sunnyvale, June
3rd, 5AM
"The data
center is down," said a voice on the phone.
Tom Cantino
rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?" he
asked.
"Five, Five
AM," said the voice on the phone.
"What
happened? Power outage? Lightning? Someone dig up a line? What?" asked
Tom
as he ran through a mental checklist in the fog of the early morning.
"No, none of
that," replied the voice.
"Well,
what?" asked Tom.
"Don't
know," said the voice.
"Why do I
pay these guys if they have no answers," thought Tom. "Okay," he
said aloud. "Then bring up the machines, one at a time. I'll be there
in
twenty minutes."
"Already
tried that," said the voice in time to keep Tom from moving from his
position seated on the edge of his bed.
"Nothing
works," said the voice. "I even tried to reformat a few disk drives,
but they won't, they won't do anything but spin."
"So they
crashed?" asked Tom.
"No, they
are spinning. I can feel them spin, hear them spin, but they wonÕt do
anything
like they're supposed to do. It's like," the voice paused.
"Well,"
said Tom, "like what?"
"It's like
the disks are just bare pieces of metal spinning round and round," the
voice replied.
"Do what you
can," said Tom. "I'm coming."
* * * * *
Sunnyvale, June
3rd, 6AM
"Take one
apart," said Tom.
"Say
what?" asked Albert, the night system administrator now standing with a
dozen experts that Tom brought with him.
"Take one
apart," repeated Tom. "Pull a disk from a server, get a screwdriver,
and take it apart. Let's look at a platter."
The group of
experts looked at one another and back at Tom.
"Are you
sure? I mean..." said Albert.
"Yes, do
it," snapped Tom.
A half hour later
the group of experts were peering over Tom's shoulder as he looked at a
circular disk under a microscope.
"I was
afraid of something like this," said Tom. "Here, you look," he
said as he backed away from the microscope and motioned for a physicist
in the
group of experts to come forward.
"Tell me
what you see Mary," said Tom.
A middle-aged
woman peered into the microscope. She pulled back quickly, rubbed her
eyes a
moment, turned to another of the persons gathered, and said, "Give me
your
reading glasses."
She put the
glasses on and returned to searching through the microscope. She stood
and
motioned for another physicist to look at the disk.
While the man
looked, Mary turned to Tom, "I think it is as you suspected. It is
gone, I
mean the material, it is gone."
"Have you
ever seen anything like that?" asked Tom.
"Well, yes,
at a factory when we had a bad manufacturing yield, but not in a data
center," Mary answered.
Mary looked at
Albert, "You sure this disk came from a functioning server. I mean one
that was working last night?"
He shrugged, twisted
his face, and nodded yes.
"I see the
same thing," said the second physicist as he stared into the
microscope.
Then he straightened up and looked at Tom. "I mean I don't see the same
thing or see the same thing missing or something."
"I know what
you mean," said Tom. "The ferromagnetic material is gone from the
platter."
"Not
entirely," said the second physicist. "I see some of it on the disk,
but, yes, much of it is gone. Too much is missing for the disk to
function."
Albert
interrupted, "You mean someone opened the servers, opened the disks,
removed material from the platters, and put it all back together again
without
anyone seeing them do it?"
"I doubt
that is what happened," said Mary. "That would be extremely difficult
to do, even in the best of circumstances. I mean in a clean lab with
the right
equipment. Just too hard to do."
"Well, then
what happened? How did all the disk drives in the data center lose
that, what
did you call it?" asked Albert.
"Ferromagnetic
material," answered the first physicist.
"Yeah, that
magic dust," continued Albert. "How did all that go away?"
"Answers?"
shouted Tom as turned to the people in the room. "Come on folks, I
brought
you here because youÕre smart and all that. Answers."
Silence followed
for a moment until a young women entered
the room,
went to Albert, and whispered something to him. He winced.
"What?"
asked Tom looking at Albert.
"You tell
him," said Albert looking at the young women who had whispered to him.
"Go ahead, tell him."
Tom stood for a
moment until his patience broke, "What?" he shouted.
"Well,"
started the young woman. Then she stopped and cleared her throat. "I,
uh,
we got some spare drives and tried to format them to put in the
servers,
and"
"And
what?" interrupted Tom.
"Well,"
she continued slowly, "they didn't, I mean they won't, I mean we
couldn't
format them. They don't work, at all, you know."
"Get one of
those disks, take it out of its housing and look at it under the
scope,"
said Tom looking at the second physicist. "The rest of you," Tom
paused.
"Well, do what you're paid to do. Think people, think. Figure out what
happened. Mary, please come with me."
* * * * *
Sunnyvale, June
3rd, 7AM
Tom and Mary
walked down one flight of stairs to the area where he sat during the
day (they
don't call them offices at Yahoo). People on the floor were milling
about
shaking their heads and doing just about everything that they didn't
normally
do at that time of the morning.
"What's
going on here?" Tom asked an older man that was standing next to a desk
shaking his head.
"No one
knows," said the man. "There isn't a working computer on the floor.
They're all dead."
"Hey,"
Tom stopped as he grabbed a man by the shoulder.
The man turned
while staring at his smartphone.
"Does that
work?" asked Tom.
"What?"
replied the man.
"Your smartphone,"
continued Tom. "Does that
work?"
"Sure,"
said the man. "Why not?"
"Walter!"
said Mary.
"Huh?"
asked Tom.
"Where is
Walter?" asked Mary.
Tom shrugged not
knowing anyone named Walter.
"Ground
floor," said Mary. "Come on, quick."
Tom struggled to
stay with Mary as she ran out of the room and down the stairs to the
ground
floor. She hurried through a few hallways to a corner room where she
pushed
through the door without knocking.
"Hi,"
said a man startled by the unannounced visit. "What..."
"Walter, let
me see your computer," said Mary.
"You're
looking at it," said the man. "Right here, dead."
Walter turned the
monitor on his desk towards Mary. "See," he said.
"Nothing."
"Not that
one," said Mary. "Your other one."
Walter hesitated.
"Er, I don't have another computer."
"Come on,
Walter," said Mary. "I know you have it, you always do."
"Mary,"
said Walter. "Please, I don't have anything."
"You keep it
in your backpack, Walter," insisted Mary. "Let me see it. Open it,
come on, turn it on."
Walter looked at
Mary and then pointed at Tom with his eyes.
"Don't worry
about him," said Mary. "He won't tell anyone. You're safe."
Tom ask
a question with the tilt of his head, but remained
silent. Walter pulled his backpack from under his desk and removed a
laptop
computer from it. He placed the laptop on his desk, opened the lid, and
the
screen came on.
"You sure
you won't tell anyone?" asked Walter.
"I said you
were safe," said Mary.
"I mean, you
know," stuttered Walter. "This is a Chromebook,
a, er, uh, a Google product, and you know
how some
people around here are about Google products."
Tom answered his
own question with raised eyebrows and a smile.
"Look,"
said Mary. "This works."
"Yes,"
said Mary. "This doesn't have a spinning disk. It uses an SSD, solid
state, no ferromagnetic material. Just like
that smartphone we saw. Try yours."
Tom pulled his smartphone from his pocket and looked at it.
"Yeah,
so?"
"Something
is destroying the ferromagnetic material in the building," said Mary.
"That's
silly," said Walter.
Mary stared at
Walter for a long, hard moment. "All the spinning drives are dead. We
looked at one under a microscope. The material looks like it came from
a bad
run at the factory, but the disks had been working. Something removed
enough
material from the platter to render the disk unusable."
"How many
people know this?" asked Walter.
"About a
dozen," said Tom. "I mean, about a dozen know about the material on
the drive being, well being whatever happened to it. It seems that
everyone in
the building knows that none of the computers in the building work."
The three were
quiet for a moment.
"And
now," interrupted Tom, "you are on the team, uh, Walter, right?"
* * * * *
Sunnyvale, June
3rd, 10AM
"Tom,"
said Walter, "this is Russ Canterez."
Tom looked away
from the window. He had been staring out the window for ten minutes. He
turned
towards the voice and saw Walter, Mary, and a young man he had never
seen
before. Tom shrugged as a signal to Walter.
Mary spoke,
"Walter and I were outside, getting some air, thinking."
Tom signaled,
"And?" with his eyebrows.
Mary continued,
"We heard Russ here describing something he saw early this morning,
just a
couple of hours before our data center went down with the, uh, disk
problem."
"Go ahead,
Russ," said Walter.
The young man was
clearly intimidated by the situation, so he spoke slowly, halting
between every
few words. "Well," he started, "I was out last night with a, on
a..."
"Date,"
said Mary supplying the word that Russ couldn't find.
"Yeah,"
continued Russ, "a date when we, uh I, well she, saw streaks in the
sky. Streaks around here. We, uh, I, well
we were near San
Francisco looking in this direction when we saw micrometeoroids coming
down in
the direction of Sunnyvale."
"What
are?" started Tom.
"Little
meteors," said Walter, "the size of pebbles."
"This is
nice," said Tom. "And why are you telling me about, uh, what's his
name? Why are you telling me about his date and shooting stars or
whatever?"
"A theory
Walter has," said Mary.
"It is rare
that we have tiny pebbles fall from space and touch the ground," said
Walter.
"And it is
rare that we have all the disk drives in the building fail from bad
materials," added Mary.
"Are they
related?" asked Tom. "Please tell me you have something."
"We aren't
sure," said Mary, "but we want to go look at the roof."
"Why the
roof?" asked Tom.
"We looked
for micrometeoroids outside in the grass," said Mary, "but we
couldn't find anything in the long grass. We want to look on a smooth,
white,
roof."
"And if you
haven't noticed," said Walter, "everyone else's disk drives have the
same problem as ours. Look out the window. Everyone is milling around
outside
their buildings just like we are."
"It is
spreading," said Mary.
"It?"
asked Tom. "What is it? Why do you say it is spreading? You talk as if
this is some sort of thing, some sort of living thing. Is that what you
are
saying?"
"A
theory," said Mary. "Let's go to the roof. And I want Russ to come
with us."
"Do we need
more people on the inside of this?" asked Tom.
"He is
young," said Mary, stating the obvious. "He has better eyesight than
us."
In ten minutes,
the four were on the smooth, white roof of the building moving slowly
and
carefully.
Russ was crawling
on his hand and knees with his face six inches from the rooftop.
"Here," he said.
"Don't touch
it," shot Mary. "Whatever you see, don't touch it with your
fingers."
"Okay,"
said Russ. "Right here"
Russ pulled a
mechanical pencil from his shirt pocket and pointed to a black object
the size
of a grain of rice. Mary carefully moved to her hands and knees to
where she
could see the tiny, black object. She pushed it into a sandwich bag
with a
tongue depressor. The four stayed on the roof another half hour and
collected
five more little black objects like the first.
"That's
enough samples," declared Mary. "Now, let's have a look at
these."
"Back to the
lab," said Tom.
"No,"
corrected Mary. "We don't have the right kind of microscope. I know
someone a few blocks from here who does, though."
"Can we
trust them?" asked Tom.
"Of
course," said Mary. "It's my husband. But there's one more thing.
Since we've found these, my theory is gaining weight and we have to
warn some
people."
"Warn
people?" asked Tom. "Warn people about what?"
"Nothing,"
said Mary. "No, not nothing," she corrected herself. "Something.
Something critical. Look, it won't be easy, you may have to find some
old
landlines that still work, but you have to call east, you have to call
every
Yahoo office east of here. They have to protect their disk drives. They
have to
put them in a vacuum. Seal them away, away from the air."
* * * * *
Sunnyvale,
June 3rd, 10PM
"There,
finally," said Mary's husband Harrison. "I can see. Thanks."
"You're
welcome," sighed Albert, Yahoo's night system administrator as his back
slid down a wall and he eventually sat on the floor in exhaustion.
"This
is the first time we've had this kind of computer problem..." started
Harrison.
"We
know," said Mary. "It's the first time anyone and everyone has had
this kind of computer problem. We're lucky you had some CDs and some SSDsÑthings that don't use ferrous materials for
data
storage. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't quick, but our guy was able to
rebuild
your system."
"Now,"
said Harrison, "let's see those samples you have."
Harrison
carefully placed one of the black grains of rice in the viewing area of
the
microscope.
"This is a,
what was that you called it?" asked Harrison.
"A
micrometeoroid," answered Russ. He had lost track of the number of
times
he had to pronounce the word slowly and explain what it represented. He
wasn't
sure why he had been dragged over here and made to wait for hours while
the
digital video microscopy or whatever it was called had been restored to
use.
"Okay,"
said Harrison. "So what are these things crawling around on this burnt
grain of rice?"
Mary and Tom
froze.
"You mean
you see something alive on there?" asked Mary as she stared at Tom and
he
stared back.
"Sure,
obvious," replied Harrison. "They're all over the place running about
and, oh, look at that. Now and then some of the sort of fly off the
thing like
they are going airborne or something."
"Let me
look, please," came a voice from a chair in the far corner of the room.
"Yes,
please," said Mary. "That is why we brought you."
The man
approached the microscope. He was the stereotypical scientist with a
white lab
coat, thick glasses, short hair, and an earnest expression.
"Harrison,"
said Mary, "this is Dr. Marriot, Randle Marriot. He works with us as a
consultant on some things, but his background is microbiology. Can he
use your
microscope?"
Harrison stood
and motioned to the device, "I guess so. It goes against company
policy,
but I guess we can make an exception without written approval in this
case.
Seeing how things are going haywire everywhere today and all that."
Harrison's
description of North America at that hour was a
understatement. Every computer had crashed, that is every computer that
used
ferrous material in its disk drive. Cell phones and tablets and some
devices still
worked, but they used solid-state memory. The Internet was down as
servers used
magnetic media. Communications were down as the telephone companies
used
computers as well. The same was true of cable TV and just about
everything
else. The world ran on computers, computers ran on magnetic media, and
something was wrong with magnetic media everywhere.
Dr. Randle
Marriot looked into the microscope for a long moment without saying
anything.
"Is there
any way we can record what I am seeing? Make a video or something?"
asked
Dr. Marriot.
"Maybe we
can rig up something," answered Harrison. "Maybe we can find some old
film camera around here, but everyone has gone home so it would be
tomorrow
or..."
"Please make
some phone calls, or at least try to make some phone calls,"
interrupted
Mary.
Harrison shrugged
and left the room.
"Okay, Dr.
Marriot," said Mary. "Look at this disk platter."
Dr. Marriot
carefully removed the tiny black object and placed the disk platter in
the
viewing area.
"I suppose
you know what I am seeing," said Dr. Marriot
as
he didn't look back at anyone, keeping his gaze into the microscope.
"That
is why you asked me to come here, right? To confirm your theory, right?"
"Yes,"
said Mary quietly. "But, please doctor, tell me what you see."
"Well,"
started Dr. Marriot, "I see the same creatures that were crawling on
the
tiny meteor crawling on this platter. They are, how shall I say it,
they are
eating the ferrous coating of the platter. They aren't eliminating it,
but they
are certainly consuming it. I suppose they are removing enough so that
the disk
no longer functions as desired, but that is not my field, but again,
given all
the failures today and all the excitement and such. And some of the
creatures
are leaving the platter, going into the air. I guess that is how this
has spread,
airborne."
"Dr.
Marriot, you called them creatures, right?" asked Mary. "Why did you
call them creatures?"
"Oh,"
replied Dr. Marriot, "excuse my speech. That just seemed to fit, it's a
vague term, so I apologize."
"But Dr.
Marriot," pressed Mary, "what are they? What are they really
called?"
Dr. Marriot
turned away from the microscope and laughed. "I don't know what they
are
really called. I've never seen anything like them. I've certainly never
seen a
microorganism that eats ferrous material then flies off to find more to
eat."
"And these
organisms came to earth on these tiny meteors," added Tom.
"Perhaps,"
said Dr. Marriot. "I haven't studied that. I haven't studied the
possibility that microorganisms could survive the environment of space
and the
heat and shock of entering earth's atmosphere, and all the possible
..."
"But it sure
looks like that is what happened," said Mary.
"Wait a
minute, here," said Tom as he stared at Mary. "You want me to call
Marissa Mayer and tell here that tiny, tiny green men have landed and
have
destroyed all the magnetic media in the world? Are you crazy? Do you
think I am
crazy? And besides, the cell phone system doesn't work so I can't call
anyone!"
"We could
knock on her door," said Mary quietly. "She is probably in her office
trying to figure this out like everyone else is. She probably wouldn't
mind if
we walked in with a couple of PhDs and gave her a scientific
explanation.
Besides, what harm is there in trying?"
* * * * *
Edwards Air Force
Base, California, June 4th, Noon
"I'm Dr.
Berger of the President's Council of Advisors on Science and
Technology,"
said the man standing in a superior position at the end of the
conference
table.
Seated on one
side of the table were Mary and her husband Harrison, Tom, and Dr.
Randle Marriot.
On the other side of the table were the most intimidating looking group
of men
in dark blue suits Mary had ever seen. They were right out of Central
Casting
in the 1960s under the heading of "G-Men."
"Ms. Mayer
is down the hall speaking with the President," continued Dr. Berger.
"They have met on several occasions before, so that is how you have
been
granted this audience and possibly an audience with the President."
Mary and the
others sat quietly, waiting for an opening to speak, but hesitant
because there
seemed to be some protocol for such meetings at desert Air Force bases.
"We have
read your reports, your hand-written reports, and seen your photos,"
said
Dr. Berger. "Do you expect us to believe this? Do you expect us to
advise
the President of your findings given the odd nature of your reporting?"
"Well,"
said Mary. "We wrote the reports by hand because we didn't have any
usable
computers to write them on. We believe you are in the same situation
since
every computer we have seen since walking into this facility is turned
off. We
didn't have any typewriters handy, but we have seen people trying to
bang on
old manual typewriters here. I guess the Air Force keeps lots of old
typewriters around for some reason."
"Okay,"
said Dr. Berger, "Forget the report format. Get to its contents."
Mary spoke for
the group, although she didn't know why that chore fell to her. "This
is
Dr. Randle Marriot. You have his credentials. You have the description
of the
instruments we used in our investigation. They are state-of-the-art.
You also
have some of our samples of the micrometeoroids we found. I believe no
one else
has found any such samples, so ours are quite valuable."
Dr. Marriot found
the courage to speak, "Have you examined these tiny meteor samples?
Have
you any independent confirmation or refutation?"
"Uh,
well," stammered Dr. Berger. "No. We don't have any functioning
equipment of that type here."
"I guess
then, you'll have to trust that we didn't make up the photos in our
report and
didn't make up this crazy story," said Mary.
"Why should
we believe you?" asked Dr. Berger. "Why should the President of the
United States believe you?"
"Why
not?" asked Harrison. "What do we have to
gain? Do we have the movie rights or something from all this? Nothing
exists anymore.
Nothing more high-tech than an electric typewriter works. We are all
out of
jobs. Gone. Done. Nothing. We have no future. And neither do you."
Dr. Berger sat
and exhaled. He loosened his tie and swung he legs until his feet
rested on the
corner of the table.
"Okay,"
he said. "Show's over. No more posturing or attempting to intimidate
you
out of your story."
Mary looked at
the faces of the Yahoo people and squeezed her husband's hand under the
table.
"Then you
believe us?" she asked.
"Why
not?" replied Dr. Berger. "You are the only
people who have some physical evidence and science to back up your
theory."
"You mean
you've heard other theories?" asked Harrison.
Dr. Berger
laughed. "Dozens of theories. PCAST, these boys here, all the best
minds
on the East Coast, we've created dozens of plausible explanations.
None,
however, had any real backing, any real evidence. Your story, on the
other
hand, has something behind it."
The room was
silent for a moment.
"Maybe, just
maybe," said Dr. Berger, "we can get a microscope working at
Livermore or Los Alamos and look at your itty bitty meteors and some
disk
drives. Travel is pretty difficult. You've no idea how hard it was to
get the
President out here, how hard it was to fly in these conditions."
"Why did you
come out here?" asked Mary. "I mean its none of my business or
something, but why?"
"Why
not?" answered Dr. Berger. "The East Coast
is too heavily populated. Given point oh one percent of nuts running
around,
your best not in a dense area. So we came out here to the desert where
people
are scarce and all that. Now we don't know how or when we will be able
to go
anywhere. How did you get here anyway?"
"Ms. Mayer
knew some people," said Tom. "People with a DC-3. Those things can
fly without a working information system or disk drive or anything like
that."
"Good
idea," said Dr. Berger.
"Dr.
Berger?" started Mary. "What happens now?"
"We wait
here until someone knocks on that door," answered Dr. Berger. "Then,
most likely, we will walk down the hall and explain to the President of
the
United States how a few tiny pebbles from space have destroyed the
world's
technology."
* * * * *
Edwards Air Force
Base, California, June 4th, 1:15PM
"And
that," said Dr. Berger facing the President, "is Yahoo's theory. And
yes, I agree with their theory and recommend that we begin governing
from a
position that acknowledges all the consequences of that theory."
The temporary
Presidential office was silent.
The President
broke the silence, "You mean to tell me that our economy, our military,
everything is stopped because we have been invaded by aliens from outer
space?"