Reiff looked puzzled. “What do you mean imploded?”
From the wooden staircase, Waterman rolled his eyes. “What does the word ‘implode’ mean to you?”
“The world imploded?”
The older man leaned forward again onto his knees. “There are smarter people who can explain the details better. But yes, that’s the gist of it.”
“And it didn’t happen all at once,” added Rachel.
“That’s right. Like I said, in the beginning, most of us didn’t know what was happening. But the casualties of the cyberwars slowly began to appear out of nowhere. Parts of the electrical grids shutting down. Water systems going offline. ATMs and credit-card transactions working one day and then failing the next. Then suddenly working again. Communications systems became increasingly more spotty, some days crashing altogether. Sometimes it felt like things were getting better only to have things start falling apart again. Then, eventually, came the financial wars.”
The older man met Rachel’s eyes through the dim lighting; she frowned and nodded.
“Then money started disappearing. ATMs were already unreliable, so at first, people thought that’s all it was. By then, internet access was no better than anything else. But when people did manage to get online, their bank accounts were either not accurate or locked. Parts of the economy started freezing up. And people, even corporations, began going bankrupt in huge numbers. By then store shelves were already mostly empty. And then … came the sovereign wave.”
“Sovereign wave?”
“That’s what they call it. Sovereign as in ‘countries.’ The corporate bankruptcy waves were bad enough, especially with millions losing their jobs. But when entire nations began rolling over, it was pure chaos. First small nations. Deep in debt and leveraged. Then progressively larger countries. Until it reached the big ones. Brazil, Argentina, Italy—”
Reiff’s eyes widened. “Italy?”
Waterman continued. “Britain … Japan…”
“Good God.”
“Turns out there was a limit to how much money the world could print. And when one country would collapse, it would panic and start selling their bonds from other countries, causing them to collapse, too, and so on and so on, like dominoes. All connected. Some collapses were less severe. But sooner or later, they all went down.”
“And no one understood why,” added Rachel.
“Because it’s hard to learn the truth when everyone is blaming each other. We blamed the Chinese. The Chinese blamed Japan. The Japanese blamed Europe. They blamed Russia. And Russia blamed us.”
“When exactly did all this happen?”
A weary Waterman motioned to Rachel, who replied, “The worst of it was just over thirteen years ago. What everyone calls ‘the Great Collapse.’ Which then gave way to ‘the Great Struggle.’”
“The Great Struggle?”
She hesitated. “A lot of people didn’t survive the collapse.”
Reiff squinted. “What do you mean, like starvation?”
“That was part of it, yes. But other people … just … couldn’t accept what was happening. That everything could be wiped out so completely and so quickly. In a matter of months.”
“Or in some cases, days,” quipped Waterman.
Reiff looked at him. “When you say they couldn’t accept it…”
“They popped,” he replied simply. “Mentally. They went crazy.”
“Some people became depressed,” said Rachel, “even suicidal.”
Waterman frowned. “Some?”
“A lot.”
“Others took another approach,” he said, “and got violent. Pillaging and rioting in giant mobs. Going from place to place, stripping it clean. Buildings, stores, farms, of any resources they could find.”
“That went on for a long time,” sighed Rachel. “Years.”
Reiff’s eyes widened. “Years?”
Waterman stood back up. “There was no one to stop them.”
“What about the police, or the government?”
“The government was in shambles. Every government was. And police officers were more worried about keeping their own families safe than protecting the public, which they couldn’t stop anyway.” He approached Reiff again. “Like I said, a lot of bad shit went down. A lot of people didn’t make it through all of it. For a lot of different reasons. Hell, in a lot of ways ‘starvation’ meant you at least survived through the worst of it.”
Reiff’s face grew solemn. Bleak. As he tried to grasp everything they’d said. “So, the Great Struggle—”
“Has been the last several years,” answered Waterman. “With all of us trying to dig ourselves out of that damn hole. Back to an existence beyond just living hand to mouth. And let me tell you, it’s been one difficult climb.”
After several minutes, Reiff took Waterman’s spot on the steps. Listless and silent, staring at the old, cracked concrete floor in front of him. With Devin Waterman and Rachel Souza standing before him in silence. Waiting. Watching as he tried to process it all.
To their surprise, Reiff seemed to take it better than they expected. Staring absently while slowly wringing his hands in front of him.
“We are recovering,” Rachel finally offered.
Reiff nodded without looking up. When he finally did, he asked, “Why am I here?”
The two looked at each other. “Huh?”
“Why … am I here?” he said again.
“Didn’t we just go over that?”
Reiff shook his head. “If things are so difficult. If the world is such a wreck. Why am I here?”
“Like Rachel said, we’ve been slowly recovering for years. But things are different. Sound money with lots of bartering. Each country wants real things in trade. Not a bunch of paper promises. Japan wants oil for their microchips. China wants real things for their … well, pretty much everything.”
“That’s my point,” said Reiff, looking to Rachel. “If resources are so precious, why did you spend so much of it building the lab, and bringing me back?”
It was a good point. One that prompted Waterman to also stare curiously at Rachel.
“I … I didn’t have anything to do with that. I just needed a job.” When neither man responded, she grew more emphatic. “I’m serious!”
“What did Masten pay you with,” asked Reiff sarcastically, “chickens?”
“Things aren’t that bad.”
He shrugged. “All the resources and the technology needed to build that lab must have been damn expensive. Money that no doubt could have been put to better use elsewhere.”
“That’s true.”
“If it’s true,” said Reiff, taking his question to the next logical step, “if I am a guinea pig … then who am I a guinea pig for?”
It was a question that seemed to suck the air right out of the small, dank room. Leaving all three staring at one another. Until, almost in unison, all three turned and faced the large metal door behind them.
“Something tells me,” said Waterman, “that your man in there knows who.”
Returning to the top of the stairs and going back into the crowded aisles of the antique store, Waterman carefully eased the hidden door closed and turned to find Henry Yamada approaching.
When the young engineer stopped, he tilted his head sarcastically. “Well, that was convenient. We’re done with the furniture.”
Rachel gave a wry grin and imitated Waterman’s voice. “It’s part of the ruse.”
“What ruse?”
“Forget it,” snorted Waterman. “It’s time to leave.”
“What about Masten?”
“He should be okay with some rest,” replied Rachel. “But apparently we’re not safe here.”
Waterman shook. “I didn’t say we’re not safe. I said we should get to a safer place.”
“Like where?”
“It’s about thirty miles from here. We’ll come back tomorrow to talk to your boss.”
With little else to say, Yamada watched the others pass by before falling in behind them. Together they wound their way through the narrow aisles back to the side entrance, where the elderly woman was waiting.
She and Waterman exchanged a few quiet words before he opened the door and stuck his head out. Finding his friend Wayne waiting by the trucks, he waited briefly for a signal before ushering the others forward into the warm night air.