Book 1: The Tuesday Gun

The wreckage is the only man made blot I can see. Jagged brown black ribs of metal rising like trees from the crystal clear ocean.

I remember Eddie. He was kind of one of the family. My dad had been so proud when he’d brought him home in his old pick up.

Trouble was, people forgot about the care, service and maintenance part. They were marketed as an infinite source of energy…

I’m stood on the arm of a tower crane 200 feet above the ground watching an ice cream van pull up to the front gate of a poorly lit warehouse complex and I’m thinking about it.

We called it the Ark. Part warehouse, part museum. Acre upon acre of crated and preserved relics of forgotten science, engineering and craft. Stacked fifty high in places. A mausoleum of forgotten technology.

Transcript.
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ORDA Interview Tape #4183-E01-24i.
Case File: EN:242-01-1
Agent: [REDACTED] OA

In the end, one rogue line of code was all it took.

The North Gate went down without tripping a single warning or alarm and the Indies poured into Tycho Crater en masse.

My old man took us to see the Golems when we were kids. That was kind of my Dad’s thing, industrial history and the machines of yesteryear.