Battle for Earth Read online

  I’m very nice to her when she inverts. That’s what we call it when she becomes dense. She inverts, causing an increase in mass and strength. We had a hard time deciding on her operative name, her team name. Grandad thought we should call her Paradox. Para for short. He says Mia, with her gift, is like the old paradox of what would happen if an unstoppable force met an immovable object. Mia is the unstoppable force AND the immovable object.

  Mia didn’t like the name Paradox, or even Para. Not at first. She sat there looking at Grandad with her face scrunched up. “Really, Grandfather? Para?”

  Grandad smiled. “Sweetie, Paradox is a compound word. It comes from two Greek words, Para and Dox. In English it means Beyond Belief. I think it fits well.”

  Mia shrugged. “I guess that’s not so bad.”

  Over the community fence and a couple of blocks down from us are the twins. There’s a nice climbing tree with a limb that hangs over that community fence. So, the twins are a quick climb, swing, drop, and stroll away. They live in a mobile home park. It’s a decent park. Their dad manages the place. Here’s the thing, Rock and Roll are identical twins, can’t tell them apart. Well, not just by looking at them anyway. They are 16 years old, almost 17. Oh no! They are, seriously, almost 17. I better at least make them a card or something.

  We have been going to the same schools since the twins moved into the neighborhood, when we were little kids. They are big guys. They work out a lot. Lean, but not mean. They’re martial arts nuts like Mia and me. We’ve all been taking classes at the same dojo for years and years. That’s actually where we met them. Still, they are scholarly in the sense they like math and science and technology. They are both super-smart. The twins are well behaved for ... boys. In fact, we all get along great.

  Their operative names are Rock and Roll. Truth told; those nicknames go back to the early days, shortly after we met them. But until recently they were secret nicknames known only to the four of us. Well, Grandad probably knew. Grandad and his musical preferences likely had something to do with their nicknames. Rock and Roll. Otherwise it’s bland old Tom and Bill. So, we’re sticking with Rock and Roll, especially for operative names.

  Rock is the older brother. I guess he’s a minute or two older. They like to build things. But I’m not talking tree houses. Their latest project is an almost functional spacecraft. They have a 3-seat capsule and a rocket engine. The rocket engine isn’t fully functional yet, but they’ll get there. Claim they’re going to the stars someday. Come to think about it, they probably will. And they won’t even need their spaceship. How is that, you might ask?

  That is because Rock and Roll can manipulate particles at the quantum level. Subatomic particles. I understand, if you’re a science guy particle isn’t exactly correct. You can make up a new word if you want. And we’re not going to get into wave/particle duality just yet. Quantum stuff is weird. I’m told there are a lot of subatomic particles that share a kind of link called entanglement. In fact, all particles might share that interrelatedness. That would mean all subatomic particles are entangled. I think that’s how it works.

  The twins can control nonlocality, or at least guide it. I know, another odd word. Nonlocality is the influence subatomic particles have, one to another, if entangled. That means there is an immediate influence between particles over any distance.

  The speed of light barrier is sidestepped. Well now, that might cause some heads to shake. Whatever. I’m not going to get any closer to the science of it here; still getting the hang of the concepts myself.

  Let’s cut to the chase and say it this way. The twins can teleport things. They can even teleport people. At least in theory they can teleport anywhere, in an instant. From here to the Moon ... snap ... like that. Or, like I said, from here to anywhere. The twins have the same gift. They can teleport. Each is capable, but together they get a power boost of sorts that enables them to move more massive objects.

  Then there’s Muncle. I suppose he’s the most implausible of us all. Muncle is Mia’s spider monkey. Wrong way to say it. He doesn’t belong to Mia. Muncle is his own monkey, though he seems to favor Mia. You’ll understand that as we go along. Muncle was living in that new science laboratory I started to write about. That was before everything changed. Boy, did things ever change. Especially for Muncle.

  Spider monkeys are the third most intelligent of the primates. Or, so I’m told. They are even more intelligent on average than gorillas and gorillas are smart. You may have read about Koko. She was a female gorilla who learned over 1,000 words in sign-language and seemed able to use them to express complex ideas. She understood more than 2,000 spoken words.

  But Muncle is much smarter than your average primate. He’s probably smarter than your uncle Fred. Or whoever your uncle is. He’s small, a couple of feet tall, not including his tail. He weighs about 15 pounds. Muncle has several gifts. Like I said, he is super intelligent (he is a very smart monkey). He has enhanced eyesight and can run very fast. As an odd side talent he can disburse and manipulate a cloud of nanites and make pretty, shiny lights. Not sure how that could be helpful. I suppose we’ll find out.

  As I’m writing this, Muncle even sounds implausible to me. But he’s real. Grandad said there is a whole lot of processing power involved, with someone or something pulling the levers behind the curtain. Wizard of Oz trickery, he says. In other words, anything that could fit inside of his little skull can’t reasonably explain his intelligence factor. Yeah, Muncle’s connected to something all right. That part is a little complicated. Well, most things about Muncle are complicated.

  I think we were the first to hear Muncle speak. He said, “Wow. So, this is what it’s like to be completely self-aware. I’m going to like this.”

  His voice is high-pitched but clear. Muncle got his name from Grandad. When Grandad realized what had happened to that ordinary monkey from the lab, he said something like: Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. A phrase from his generation no doubt. But the name kind of stuck. Monkey’s uncle ... Muncle. Yeah. Let’s not forget Grandad. He is the ring leader of this circus after all. Sorry. Like I said, not enough sleep.

  Grandad is my mother’s father. As I understand it, Grandad’s grandad came over to the good old U.S. of A from a Scandinavian country. Sweden, I think? It could have been Norway. I can’t remember right now. Anyway, his surname actually has a relationship to trolls. With respect to team operations his codename is Mr. T, for Mr. Troll.

  Mr. T says trolls purposefully constructed a bad reputation. It happened long ago. Trolls lived in a remote area in the old country. They were an extensive tribe of intelligent and beautiful people. Because of that, other tribes kept bothering them. So, the Troll Tribe fashioned a false information campaign. They got the word out that Trolls were mean folk, ugly too. Very dangerous. It was best to give them a wide berth. Worked quite well don’t you think? He’s got a lot of stories like that. It’s good to have a little fun in life, yes?

  As I mentioned, until recently he worked part time as a scientist for DARPA. He worked for other government agencies on contact as well. As the saying goes, I could tell you, but then you know what I’d have to do to you. Okay, just kidding. Should be careful what I write. I might lose my operative license or something. Grandad is acquainted with numerous government and military types. He is friends with a lot of scientists.

  His main area of expertise is artificial intelligence. And he seems to know a lot about what he calls ... ordnance. Guns and bombs and stuff. That’s funny since he is basically a peace-loving sort. Well, unless you mess with his family, or his planet. Then, it’s game on. He has a gift too.

  If Mr. T can get close enough to touch you, he can use his gift. He can read your mind and even dig around in your head and find memories and such. We’re calling it delving.

  There is also the nanite array. We didn’t understand or even find out about that until later on. You will understand more about nanites soon. This Keeper of the Record computer has state-of-the-
art encryption protocol developed by DARPA. But the nanite array can hack the computer and leave messages anytime it wants. So far, the information provided by the nanite brain, or whatever it is, has been helpful. The tacit agreement is, the nanite array must clearly mark inserts to the Journal. Right, nanite array?

  ***

  You may call us Communal. Oh, sorry. A touch of quantum decoherence. Let’s start over, observing our ... tacit agreement.

  *COMMUNAL: We are the sentient intelligence to whom you refer, though we are not merely a nanite array. As a side-note, we know Muncle well, though we’re no wizard behind any curtain. Just a sec. Hey, you guys over in Data Mining, let’s look into the wizard and curtain reference. You think it’s from an old movie? Which one? Oh, that’s it. And, we’re off to see the...

  ***

  Here’s how this works. I take my responsibilities seriously. The Journal will be accurate. To help with that I have access to Grandad’s latest AI projects. In particular, there is a very strong AI capable of analogical and inductive reasoning together with state-of-the-art data mining programs. What do you think about that Communal? Grandad’s AI will help with collating and choosing pertinent information to include in the Journal.

  Let’s check the settings for the subroutines and algorithms for the Journal. Just a sec. They look good. Here’s a style setting with all sorts of drill-down functions like genre. Genre? Style emulation? Select options or provide short descriptions of desired form. I think I’ll keep most of this as is.

  Even though I’m working toward becoming a journalist, it’s difficult not to write using at least some of the vernacular of my generation. Grandad said a lot of people would find my everyday real-speak talk difficult to understand. The journal style emulation has a bunch of presets.

  *SYSTEM. Style emulation. Era: Early 21st Century. Let’s try for some more modern speech additions. Let’s type in this as a style description. Description: Occasion glimpse, blast on the fast-past to the real-time, keep it on the too-cool. END.

  Who wouldn’t understand everyday real-speak, like, blast on the fast-past to the real-time? The AI understands. If I choose these settings we should end up with mostly early turn of the century lingo, mixed with an occasional flare of real-speak to keep everyone awake. Let’s check in with Grandad to see how much we need to keep it on the too-cool.

  “Grandad, let’s say you were reading an old story, something from Shakespeare, with some modern explanations to help you understand. If I asked about the book, ‘does it rad an occasion glimpse, blast on the fast-past to the real-time, keep it on the too-cool’, you would understand the meaning, right?”

  “No Sweetie, not really. I hear you talk like that. Thankfully, not all the time. I might get half of the intent. That phrase isn’t too hard though. I think you’re saying, does the author occasionally explain the book content to help a modern reader better understand the meaning of the text.”

  “You have your AI running an interpretation algorithm on your s-loop all the time, don’t you?

  “True-go.”

  “Funny. True-go. Okay. Thanks Grandad.”

  “You bet.”

  I never really think about it. But we don’t talk our culture-gen real-speak when addressing Grandad. Or others of his generation. We don’t even use real-speak with each other all the time. It’s like we’re bilingual. Has there been that much cultural language drift?

  Anyway, I better stick with an early turn of the century writing style. We’ll also see how Communal might fit in with the Journal. I have a feeling this is the end of any privacy for our team members. I suppose it’s like Grandad said, we’re public servants now.

  ***

  THE LAB

  Begin Journal. August 5th (again). Journal Catch Up Through August 20th . I’m going to try to bring us up to right up to the invasion in this section.

  Grandad invited us on a tour of the new science laboratory that recently opened near Seattle. Mia and I could bring two friends. It wasn’t as though Grandad didn’t know who those two friends would be. I called Tom and Bill, knowing they would be excited. Tom answered.

  I’ll admit, I was excited to see the lab as I placed the call. “In-synch to get wound-up ace-man?”

  Tom was ready for some action too. “Tight, you done with the grind?”

  Work is done, time for summer fun. “We’re on perk-a-lot, up to fun.”

  Tom wanted the dope. “We’re freed to-do, into?”

  I had something on the top. “Back pass, new lab, staff to tow. Grandad got us in place.”

  Tom had the phone on speaker by that time. This is a thing now. “You hear that Bill? We are VIP for the best show in town.”

  Yeah, it wasn’t hard to sell, not to them at least. And it was wonderful, at first it was. The lab had sections devoted to numerous branches of science. It’s a big deal laboratory, employing the latest experimental holistic approach to science. Many scientific disciplines with potential beneficial integration synergies all under one roof. The brochure said something like that anyway.

  Robotics. Artificial Intelligence. Genetics. Medicine. Agriculture. Even space travel. I don’t think we’re nerds exactly. Not that there is anything wrong with being a nerd. If liking science stuff means you’re a nerd, well, deal with it. Good, we’ll leave it at that.

  There we were, wandering around all googly eyed. I woke from my tech-daze long enough to think: we must be worse than a bunch of little kids visiting Disney Land for the first time. Then I went right back under. We stopped at every display, took the whole tour. And we had a lot of questions. The scientists were way too tolerant. Grandad seemed to know most of them. I suppose we got special treatment because of that.

  We saw nanites through purpose-built and super powerful microscopes. They’re basically tiny machines. Let me help you understand the size of a nanite in case you haven’t seen very many. A nanite is so named because of the scale, the size. It is almost as small as a nanometer. A sheet of paper is about 100,000 nanometers thick. So, yeah, a nanite is small.

  We saw human-sized robots too. Those are coming along. Artificial intelligence. Scary-smart. Advances in medicine are moving fast. There is constant headway in agriculture, more food, less soil degradation. Genetics. I hope they know what they’re doing. There is an awful lot of gene mixing going on these days. It would be fun to have a pair of wings someday though. That would be pretty cool. I must have said that out loud, because Roll said I would be too heavy to fly, even if I had wings.

  He received a good sock on the shoulder, of course. “You trying to say something Roll?”

  We were having a great time. But the day had grown long. The science guys had moved along; most likely they had enough of us by then. Really, it was time to go, and we wandered over to Grandad who was getting a dip from the water cooler. Then ... boom. Massive explosion. There was glass flying. Smoke was swirling. I saw flames, an actual flame-cloud. That would have been awesome in and of itself if I didn’t think I was about to die. Sirens and horns were blaring; then Grandad was pulling us all down to the ground.

  It ended as quickly as it had begun. Well, the explosion and fires did. But if we are being technical, the massive explosion was only the beginning. You’ll see.

  Like Grandad said later, almost like he was trying to make it all seem like part of a show. “Real flash-bang stuff.” Yeah, there will be plenty of that in our future. Real flash-bang stuff.

  Foam fire retardant was spraying all over the place. Giant fans kicked on to pull out the smoke. Doors clanged. Some opened, some shut. And there we were, wondering what in the world had happened. None of us was hurt too badly. We all had cuts from broken glass. Each of us had an assortment of goo all over. That would be goo, plural. Goos? Anyway, there was an assortment of goo colors. It really was disgusting.

  Medics arrived. They cleaned and bandaged us. Then a helicopter came and took us to a nearby military base. Joint Base Lewis-McChord. Madigan Army Hospital is there. It gave the i
mpression the military was somehow involved with the lab. That should have been an early clue. They made us stay overnight. There were a lot of questions, a bunch of tests. We were released the next day. The worry lines showed the concern of our parents, though they remained calm.

  Grandad was so sorry about what happened. He invited us over to his house for pizza. We all had way too much pizza, and a little bit of salad. When we had finished, he asked us to come down to his lab. Evidently, we had sold ourselves as guinea pigs for the price of a pizza. It was good pizza though. Yes, Grandad has a sweet lab in a special basement at his house. He asked if he could take some swabs and a little blood to do some thorough testing. Just to be safe. He even had a compact EEG machine.

  I think Grandad suspected something that even DARPA hadn’t considered. Yeah, DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) was involved. You’ll see.

  The whole thing was very odd. But we trust Grandad. He took an alcohol swab and rubbed it on my arm and my brain felt like it lit up. Only way I can describe it. And Grandad had this look, like, what just happened? Well, now we know what happened. His “gift” switched on for the first time. He read my mind. Of course, we weren’t sure at the time exactly what had taken place. Time moved along as it does. Life seemed as though it was returning to normal.

  It was summer time. School was out. We all had some extra time. At least for a few more days. All of us had jobs over the summer but those had ended since school would soon start. Mia had tried to get me to work at the daycare where she worked the last couple of summers.

  Actually, it would have been easier work than my summer job. But the pay was good working as an intern doing materials testing at jobsites. To top it off, it was a chemical engineering intern project, so it fit well with my career goals. Here’s the thing, I didn’t mind the responsibility of running important safety tests on materials. That was true even though a testing error could result in people being hurt. I was getting proficient at my tasks by the end of the summer program. The intern lead wasn’t even reviewing my test results. Not in any detail.