CHAPTER NINE - New Technology

A week later

Harry,” Mitchell called down the tunnel from the IC alcove entrance. “It is frozen again.”

We’re working on it, sir,” Harry yelled back from the nerd alcove.

Thanks, Charlie,” Bradley said. “I need to get me a bullhorn, so I don’t have to get someone to do my yelling.” He rebooted the iPhone to try the FaceTime connection again. “He waved the phone in the air for emphasis. I think we created a monster with these things,” he said with a note of humor.

Bradley paused to listen to the storm roaring outside the portal door. The tunnel’s air intake duct carried the sound as well. He glanced at the external radiation level and shook his head in concern. It was higher than any time since they first entered the mountain. He made a smirking gesture that one could interpret as either acknowledgment or rejection as he walked toward his desk while fumbling with the phone.

For the past week, Bradley’s nerds had worked with Barlow’s nerds to modify a large number of iPhones distributed between the two locations during the move. The modified smartphones distribution to the residents at both the base camp and the mountain outpost brought with it many unexpected complications. It was not enough having individual image view provided by the wireless network. Being former social networking fans, those at base camp wanted the ability to interact with each other even though they all lived in a communal environment.

Besides the social networking, enough wanted to access the digital archive, which Bradley’s nerd team had spent two days installing an Internet server contributed by Cox Cable while supplying the mountain immediately after the EMP.

This morning, the demand for bandwidth had already shut down the repeater on Mount Charleston on three occasions, causing the transfer of images to freeze at both base camp and the mountain.

Inside the other teenagers’ R&D nerd alcove, Harry and the others were tinkering with solving the bandwidth problem that would establish an Internet type service between base camp and the mountain outpost.

Colonel,” Jack Dawson called from the radio room. “We are ready when the nerds are.”

Jack was referring to the wireless connection that enabled the base camp and the mountain to maintain constant visual communication. Bradley strolled into the radio room to find Jack and a couple of others trying to focus the Mount Charleston camera on the base camp building while communicating with their counterparts via the wireless network. He glanced at the radiation level readout, the outdoor camera monitor, and the weather data on the big screens while listening to the exchange.

Base camp, no joy on the Mount Charleston cameras. The storm is blocking our vision. You most likely have wind damage judging by the flapping and banging sounds you are hearing.”

Jack glanced toward Bradley to acknowledge his presence. “Sir, they are complaining about a loud banging sound that they hear all the way to the basement.” He glanced toward the weather displays on the big screens. “They may have been hit by a small tornado. Charlie reported a small cell developing over Las Vegas, but it dissipated shortly afterward. They are operating blind. The outpost and base camp still has a digital exchange capability. However, the storm had taken out all outside cameras except one. It still works, except it broke its mount and now swings in the air by its wires.” He glanced around the alcove. “Charlie must have just stepped out, sir.”

He heard Barlow’s voice on the computer and saw her face appear on the screen. “Colonel, I heard Jack talking to you and thought I’d break in.” The sound of a child screaming in the background almost drowned out her voice. The crying sound faded as the mother walked by. Bradley heard Barlow’s voice off camera asking someone to provide her some privacy — that she was speaking with the colonel.

Bradley thought of reminding Barlow about him being inactive military and there being no need for the rank designation, but somehow, he sensed this not being a daily update call and remained silent to allow her to set the conversation’s tone.

Thank you,” she said, still off the screen. Her face appeared back in camera view. She looked tired and stressed about something.

Tom, is my old suite in the rock still available?”

Matter of fact, it is. We are experiencing a slow tourist season here.” Neither laughed at his joke. He waited for her to continue.

Well, I may want it back. Tom, I never knew we had it as good as we did at the mountain. We are only a week into rebuilding and are falling apart. We needed this storm as we needed a hole in the head. Garbage is piling up, and we have no place for it to go. At least, we had the cremation oven at the mountain to dispose of our waste. The place stinks with dirty baby diapers, and Tom, I swear that some of our people never take a shower. The BO is stifling.”

Bradley highly respected his former executive officer’s abilities to transition from survival mode to rebuilding. He stared into the computer camera, patiently letting her vent. He sensed her switching to the purpose of contacting him.

Tom, I deployed once to Iraq and twice to Afghanistan, where I did what the Army trained me for — nation rebuilding. We brought in and built hospitals and schools, sanitation systems, and built roads for tribes in places that had never seen any of these things. I worked with tribal leaders having no formal schooling, most having prejudices and beliefs predating the Neanderthals. Honest to God, I would rather work with them than with what I have to put up with now.”

She lowered her voice and drew closer to the microphone to prevent others nearby hearing her. “Tom, I fear we may have a mutiny brewing.”

What!” He hissed. This call was much more than merely her needing to vent.

It is about the Bitcoin currency that you and I discussed. It seems the electrician; Becker was once a union organizer and some sort of union wheel at his local. He is trying to organize the other three electricians, the carpenters, and the teachers into a union with set wages and all sorts of demands. It gets worse. The Brains, the Ph.D.s is making a case that their compensation should be contingent on the level of their education. They think they are blue blood, nobility just because they have a Ph.D. after their names. They show no interest in seeking a new profession and being contributory to the community.”

Barlow paused to allow Bradley to comment. He did so with a concerned look on his face.

I was afraid of this,” he said gravely. “I sensed it when most took no interest in teaching the others their skills. Some are just the opposite and will be most valuable to reconstruction.”

This time Barlow waited for the other to complete his thought.

Jane,” Bradley said thoughtfully. “I suspect the prima donnas are those who grew up wealthy, attended the Ivy League colleges, and found a cushy government teat to hang onto. They never had to work in their childhood as we did. They do not know responsibility or hardship, caring for people other than themselves. They have never put a .22 bullet into the head of a dog that they loved more than anything in the world. I did when I was eight years old to put my dog out of its misery after a fatal rattlesnake bite. I had a puppy that I had to do that too when it got in front of the cutters on my combine, and I did not see him. I cut off three of his legs and had to kill it to stop the suffering. Those refusing to adjust have never known what it takes to live, to survive.”

I agree. It was the same with me. Tom, over there one did not shake the left hand of some of those chieftains that I worked with. They use it to wipe their ass and their other hand for shaking, eating, whatever. I helped tribes that allowed the marriage of their daughters at age nine. Can you imagine that — giving your nine-year-old daughter to a middle age shaggy-bearded man cultivating facial hair that grew wild on his ass and listening to the child’s screams while the bastard consummated the marriage? We are talking about a culture where a girl or woman gang-raped goes to prison and the rapists go free. You are right — some of our pampered people do not have a clue what life is like. What do you recommend?”

Bradley’s answer sounded more a raspy hiss than the harsh whisper intended.

Yes, it was a sympathizer that killed Stacey and the others lying just outside the portal door. Back to your problem, we have cancer. Think of our people as a body and think of what you would do if you detected cancer on your body. If you cannot treat it, you cut it out. In nerd talk, we have a virus that can destroy everything. You need to run a virus protection program and either quarantine or remove the virus. Weed out the cancers and viruses, and let Kellahan take it from there to quarantine or remove.”

Understood, sir.” Her face softened into a slight smile. “Tom. I am not kidding about wanting to come back to the mountain.” She held the laptop up above her head to allow the microphone to pick up the amalgamated shelter sounds of people talking over each other, children playing, and infants crying. “I think just about everyone would welcome living under that rock again.”

Bradley rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Barlow, you might suggest to Kellahan that a professor called to active military duty as a private to stir MREs in the kitchen, or perform laundry duty receives much less pay than professor putting his knowledge to beneficial use.”

Gotcha.” She grinned. “Wimp! You may have talked me out of my shitty mood, but you did not respond to George and me wanting to return to the mountain.”

Bradley continued listening to the open mic background sounds after Barlow, and he concluded their conversation. The always-open mic was a problem with the wireless network connecting base camp and the mountain. It remained live even with no one communicating. The mountain’s computer microphone sat far enough away from the working and executive desks it did not pick up regular business in the IC. However, this was not the case at base camp where the microphone picked up the steady murmur of conversations, children at play, children crying, and frequently the loud voices of someone passing close by.

While Bradley was talking to Barlow, Sammie had drifted into the IC to check in. She stared at the static image showing on the computer screen while listening to the nonstop audio from the open mic. She found the audio depressing and something that those at the outpost could do nothing about.

She noted Jack walking out of the radio annex and toward the IC exit. “Jack,” she called. “If you are passing the nerd room, tell them that we need a login alert for this, so we don’t have to monitor all of this background noise.” She gestured toward the computer to indicate to what she referred. She approached Bradley’s desk where he mouthed a silent thank you.

Seeing no one close enough to hear them, she dropped protocol. “Dad, I heard enough to know that there is trouble in the base camp. Do you need an ear or a shoulder to lean on?”

He nodded his head toward an empty chair. “Sit.” Like him, Sammie had switched from military to civilian attire, and seeing her now reminded him of his Stacey when they first married. The mother and daughter at the same age might have passed for twins.

She placed her hat on the floor beside her. “Guess who I saw working with the veterinarian in the kingdom last evening. Business is slow at the clinic, so Jeb and Jamie are volunteering to care for the livestock. You are not going to believe this, but he and I both saddled a horse and rode through the tunnel. The vet is concerned about the horses not getting enough exercise.” She saw his mood brighten noticeably. “So what goes at base camp?”

At least his mind was no longer in a stew when he answered. “Workers are talking unions and making pay demands. The brains are as well, seeking pay for their knowledge, but not for what they do, which is nothing but whine.”

You’re kidding! They didn’t make such demands here inside the mountain, so why now?”

Bureaucrats. Typical government workers always had a union to protect their tenure. This pisses me. Those doing the whining never had to do anything all the time we protected them here. Now that we expect the deadbeats to contribute, this is their response. Fortunately, for us here at the outpost, those in the brainy department who contributed before have returned to the mountain, leaving Barlow stuck with the culls. If the base camp dissenters think that we are going to return to the ways that put us here, I have a news flash for them. Those clowns are so delusional, it defies description.”

Sammie slowly shook her head in disbelief.

Bradley reached down to pet Sarge, who was signaling a need to go to the doggie potty area. “Just a moment, Sarge,” he said. “Sammie, I fear that we are in a world of hurt. After all this time, we are just now realizing that those we sheltered and protected the past four years came selected by the same government that pounded our weapons into food stamps to put us here. We have been sheltering some of those who did the pounding. Their share the wealth and political correctness bullshit hasn’t changed one iota, even with all that has happened simply because of what they did to weaken our nation. Give them a diploma for some degree, some letters after their name, put some butt fuzz on their face and they think they should rule the world. Our nation went through this same thing with the hippie and flower child movement during the Vietnam War. The only thing missing this go around is the dope.”

Sammie’s concern displayed on her face and in the tone of her voice. “What do you suggest we do?”

You probably heard me tell Barlow that she should cut the cancer. Her perform-for-pay currency idea may be the answer. Pay the dissenters according to their service, and they will have to fall in line. This arcane controversy over pay at this stage of our reconstruction is obscene, intolerable. What disappoints me is my mistakenly thinking of our being able to dispense with martial law and return to democracy standards.”

Sammie noticed him glancing at the outside camera monitor where the wind-driven rain continued nonstop. “Remember Dad how early in the nuclear winter we often saw starving coyotes, bobcats, and mountain lion exploring outside our doors looking for food? We haven’t seen one in years.”

In a move signaling enough of this, she energetically stood up from her chair and changed her voice to an upbeat note. “Dad, the reason for my dropping in is to extend an invitation from Don Pierce and the other ranchers to join them for a barbecue this evening. They had to put down a cow injured in the blast and want to invite everyone for an exciting evening at the animal kingdom.”

I will be there.” He grinned mischievously. “Calling a smelly feedlot an animal kingdom is much like making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

He too stood up. “I had planned on dropping in on the brains to test their pulses regarding this currency matter, but I think I will wait until tonight at the barbecue. I want to see how they handle the feedlot smell of your animal kingdom and the noxious odor of Terre’s photosynthesis garden. They might not know to step around cow piles, horse nuggets, and perhaps can’t tell the difference between sheep pellets and smart pills, but if they produce like the kids are in the nerd alcove, we have no problem with them.”

Charlene Dawson, because of having recently given birth, volunteered to man the IC, which these days included much more than simply the radios. Jack decided to stay as well to support her and play on the radios, which is how he classified his seeking contact with a Ham radio operator somewhere in the world.

Bring us back some barbecue,” she sang out to Bradley as he left to join the others at the south portal. He waved over the back of his head to indicate having heard her. She watched as he stopped at the alcove entrance and looked up at the collage of Stacey and the others killed at the south portal. He removed his hat for a moment in a show of homage and placed it back on his head as he moved out of sight into the tunnel. His grieving the loss seemed to be declining, but she doubted the memories and devotion would ever diminish in this man — her John Wayne.

As Bradley neared the alcove selected for the event, it quickly became evident this indeed being an old fashion hoedown. The barbecue’s appetizing aroma wafted up the tunnel, indicating the event happening upstream from the smelly feedlots.

The sounds of someone playing a violin that Bradley did not even know existed drifted up the tunnel along with the sounds of people laughing and the livestock making their animal calls. Three little boys and their dogs darted past him, the boys using their loud outdoors voices and the dogs barking as they played.

He entered the alcove where he saw everyone dressed western as he was. The crowd was mixing — Don Pierce and Sammie laughed wildly, and those listening clapped at something funny Sammie had obviously said. He knew whatever it was; it applied to him when they all clammed up and smiled when they saw him enter. Sammie made a motion of zipping her lips, which ignited the laughter again.

Bradley had no idea what Sammie had said, but he went along by laughingly shaking his head and wagging his finger at her as others seeing him walk in rushed to welcome him.

In normal circumstances, one spending four years sealed in a 5-mile long tunnel would have known everything there was to know about the others and vice versa. Inside the mountain, that was not the case.

Bradley had taken command of the tunnel unknown to any of them, a stranger to the area, and from a high-level and highly classified position with the Defense Intelligence Agency. He came with sufficient knowledge to know his people, and he would be in the tunnel for a long time and had treated his leadership position much as the captain of a ship or a deep space vehicle. Unlike Stacey, who had mixed with and supported everyone, Bradley had remained a loner, mystery, and unquestionably, the commander. He did not fraternize. To know him or to know about him meant one was either in his inner circle or on his shit list.

Tonight, the change became evident with the population now being permanent citizens that included the returning protected ones. He considered each one a member of his team. He had demonstrated that at the weather watch party and continued to do so tonight. The people sensed this, and the event quickly became one of everyone bonding with the one entrusted with their lives for over four years.

Late in the evening, Bradley noted Raymond and Sammie were visiting with the group of scientists and engineers who had returned to the mountain. He drifted over to join them, hardly arriving before Terre Scofield spotted him and rushed over. “Sir, would you care to see the garden? We have the newest equipment, mostly installed.” The teenager acted so enthusiastic that he had no choice but to visit the garden. He turned to the others. Have you visited the garden? Let’s take a quick tour.

What they saw when they entered the large alcove shocked them all. Rows of young vegetation covered the alcove with just enough room between them to walk. A bar extended above each trough of young plants to hold the massive lighting. The plants lined in rows inside the troughs with water soaker hoses extended beside them to keep them moist. “We re-circulate the water,” she explained. “If you will follow me, I will show you the ponds and plants that do not require soil.”

You did all of this?” a scientist among them asked.

Yes, sir. I have help. The youngsters love to help me, and the farming families help me with the heavy work.”

The man turned to Bradley. “This is impressive — especially seeing the younger generation doing all of this. What can I do to help?”

The group casually toured the garden for the next thirty minutes, often stopping excitedly to discuss in some depth some of Bradley’s vision for the reconstruction and future of all the survivors.

Near midnight, he and his entourage at the gardens herded up their families and departed the festivities. Those touring the gardens left together with the former VIPs so charged up they hardly thought about the storm raging outside the portal doors. One by one, the families arrived at their alcove and dropped from the group, leaving only the Bronsons and Bradley by the time they reached the IC where a significant surprise awaited them.

 

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