Blood, Bullets, and Broccoli: Issue# 18
The Domino Effect
Level 5 security clearance required. Footage was filmed and edited by the Killstache-6000 program. A Nomad Division initiative. Below is the written transcript of the classified mission: The Domino Effect.
Read at your own risk.
3 years ago…
The jet rumbles, powered by physics and engineering degrees 30,000 ft. across a blue backdrop. People drink beer and eat snacks trusting smarter people to not kill them. The power of flight has become as mundane as brushing your teeth.
“Drink, Sir?” The flight attendant asks.
“Thanks, toots,” Remington says. “I’ll take an ice water.”
Holding up a whiskey the man sitting beside Remington says, “Water? Mr. Remington, surely even you can relax for a couple of hours. Enjoy all what first class has to offer.”
“Never cared for the stuff. I don’t like being controlled, Doc.”
The flight attendant sets a napkin on Remington’s table and a glass of ice water beside it.
“Snacks?” The flight attendant asks.
Remington waves her away and says, “No thanks, sweetie. I’m on duty.”
“You know, Mr. Remington, your attitude is quite dated.”
Remington says, “Your haircut is dated, Doc, but let’s cut the chit-chat. We have business to discuss.”
There’s a baby crying somewhere in the back, a kid screams, “Mom, I need go pee.” People are watching movies or taking naps or staring at their phones oblivious to the fact that somewhere hidden on the plane is a nuclear device capable of incinerating fifty city blocks.
“I suspect you think you’re rather smart Mr. Remington for setting up this meeting in an airplane surrounded by civilians, trapped in a metal coffin so-to-speak. Somehow you think that no harm will come to you or these sheep. But quite the contrary, Mr. Remington. You’re here to negotiate the sale of my nuclear device and its plans, but I’m here for a demonstration of its destruction and undetectability.”
Remington adjusts the air so it’s aimed at his face and says, “No, Doc. I’m not here to buy, I’m here to take. You’re selling weapons of mass destruction to lunatics. You’re a piece of shit.” Remington takes a sip from his cup of water and says, “I don’t like you or the scum bags you work for. You can all go to hell.”
The man laughs and says, “A tough cookie right to the very last second I see.”
Remington says, “Excuse me, Doc. I need go pee.”
“But of course,” he says. “Take your time, Ian.”
Remington gets up and walks down the aisle hunched over, his head skimming the ceiling of the plane, his frame plowing down the aisle. He has to raise his arms up over the seats to fit. He squeezes himself into the tiny airplane bathroom and looks into the mirror and says, “Judith. What do you make of this?”
A voice only Remington can hear says, “You really botched it up this time haven’t you, Ian?”
Rubbing his thick masculine mustache, Remington says, “Just give me the details, Killstache.”
“I warned you about calling me that. And stop rubbing me. It makes me uncomfortable. #MeToo? Yeah, me too, Ian.”
“Okay, Judith. Report, please and thank you.”
Judith says, “There’s three hundred passengers on the plane with 4 flight attendants and two pilots. One of the pilots has an elevated heart rate and one of the flight attendants has a slight urinary infection. No weapons detected or the package. There is something strange though.”
“What’s that?”
Judith says, “I detect parachutes on board the aircraft.”
Remington says, “Why is that strange. It’s an airplane.”
Judith says, “Commercial flights don’t carry parachutes.”
Remington says, “It appears the good doctor is planning another flight.”
“Ian,” Judith says. “Realize that once you walk out of this bathroom, you’re going to need to run a marathon. After you step out and do what do what needs to be done, you’re not going to stop until it’s over. So take a breath. Enjoy this moment of calm.”
Adjusting his hair in the mirror, Remington says, “Calm. Never cared for the stuff, Judith. Just another day at the office.”
Remington steps out from the miniature bathroom and slams into a brick wall. Dazed, he looks around the plane in silence.
Judith says, “Ian. Your heart rate is reaching one forty. Ian?”
“Yes, Judith,” Remington says.
“Am I seeing this correct?”
“Yes, Judith. I’m afraid you are.”
“Where is everyone?”
Remington looks over hundreds of empty seats. No crying babies. No kids. No one glued to their phones. No snacks. No drinks. Just an empty airplane.
Remington walks down the aisle looking into each row but finds them all empty. No carry-ons. No books. No newspapers. No evidence anyone was ever there. Remington gets back to his seat and the Doctor is sitting there smiling.
“What the hell is going on here, Doc?”
“It seems as though people weren’t impressed with the complimentary lunch.”
“You think you’re funny, Doc, but you’re not. You’re an asshole. So what gives?”
“Well, Remington,” the Doc says removing his glasses. You want my device, and other interested parties want you dead. I was looking for a way to demonstrate how effective my device is while collecting the fifty-million-dollar bounty on your head. In certain circles you are not liked, my friend. So here we are. Two birds with one stone as they say.”
“First of all,” Remington says. “I’m not your friend. Secondly, fifty million? That’s it? Thirdly, here we are what?”
Doc says, “Here we are, or should I say, here you are. Standing on my device. A nuclear bomb cruising at an altitude of 30 000 ft. at 800km an hour about to become dust in the wind in front of a live studio audience.”
The Doc motions toward small cameras posted around the cabin.
“It’s not really a live studio audience if they’re watching this from somewhere else, Doc. Did you get your PhD from a cereal box?”
“Oh, Ian. It will be such a bore when you’re gone.”
“I become dust, you become dust Einstein.”
The Doc laughs and says, “Oh, Ian. I’m not on the plane. I’m sitting comfortably in a hollowed-out mountain enjoying a whiskey sour.”
Remington reaches over and moves his hand through the doctor’s translucent body.
“I’m a hologram. A very advanced hologram smart enough to fool your Killstache’s sensors. All those passengers were holograms. I might be an asshole, but I’m not a total monster.”
“What about the flight attendants?” Remington says. “She handed me my drink.”
“Killbot-3000 Mr. Remington. Disguised as flight attendants. State of the art. I must say the work is exquisite. I made them myself. Very pleasant on this setting but can be a nasty piece of work if they get angry.”
“Good, lord Doc. Is this real life? Am I about to fight four killer robots in a nuclear device 30,000ft in the air while terrorists jerk off?”
“Oh, no Mr. Remington. I imagine you bunch would destroy this plane and at the end of the bloody battle you’d all be standing in the rubble begging for more. No, this tech is very expensive and won’t be sticking around for the demonstration. You are the star of this production.”
Down the isle, at the other end of the plane the four flight attendants wave and then each one drops through a trap door in the floor.
“The parachutes, Ian,” Judith says. “Our only chance has just buggered off.”
Remington laughs and says, “You think turning me into dust is going to stop me from kicking your ass, Doc? I’ll find you and get right up in your sinuses real deep like so you can’t sleep at night until you eventually go crazy from lack of sleep and kill yourself. And even then when they cremate you we will be mixed together for eternity, and while you are being anally raped in hell by Hitler I will get a weekend pass from Heaven and go down there and kick your sorry swollen ass.”
“Yes,” Doc says, “well, I’ll be waiting, Ian. Looking at his watch the Doc says, “You have three minutes.”
“This is your captain speaking,” a mans voice announces from a speaker. “We’re currently cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet. We will be reaching our destination in approx. three minutes so sit back and relax and this will all be over momentarily. Thank you for flying Nook Air.”
“Geez,” Remington says, “when you hear it out loud it’s kind of obvious. Judith are you able to disable this monstrosity?”
Judith says, “Not in three minutes. Get me to the cockpit and maybe I can tap into the system somehow.
There’s a shift and the plane begins to slow down.
Judith says, “We’re starting our descent.”
Remington kicks in the door to the cockpit expecting to see a blowup doll steering the plane on autopilot. There’s no seats. Just a black panel with less buttons than a calculator.
Remington says, “What do we do with this?”
Judith says, I’ll try to find a way in. Hack the signal.”
Doc Hologram walks in and says, “There’s no use trying to stop it, Ian. It’s an inevitable eventuality. The plane is being flown by the internal AI system and even though it’s not as sophisticated as your Killstache, you don’t have enough time to hack it.”
“He’s right,” Judith says. “It’s a real bastard and I can’t break through the firewall in a couple of minutes.”
Remington goes silent.
Judith says, “Perhaps. Let me check.”
The Killstache and host are linked and share each other’s thoughts and resources. Internally Remington thinks, “Locate the signal, Judith. It must be close. The plane might be run from the internal AI but he’s transmitting from an outside location. Apparently from a hollowed out mountain. This bastard would want to see the explosion with his own psychotic eyes. That’s why we’re losing altitude. So he can watch.”
Judith says, “I think we can chock that up to rhetorical hyperbole, Ian. Do you know how much resources it would take to hollow out a mountain?”
“Retorawhatnow?” Remington thinks.
“Standby, I’m trying to locate the signal.”
Doc Hologram says, “Why so silent, Ian? Have you finally accepted your fate? Or are you praying to your God?”
Judith says, “Got him. He’s close but still a couple hundred miles away so we won’t reach him by the time we explode. You have no choice but to jump and figure out something on the way down.”
The captain’s voice says, “We will reach our destination in approx. two minutes. Sit back and enjoy the rest of your life.”
“Remington thinks, “Well, shit. Ok, let’s go.”
Remington walks through the hologram and says, “Put a cup of tea on, Doc. Don’t go no where. I’ll be there soon.”
Doc Hologram laughs and says, “Oh Ian. How I’ll miss your childish sense of humor.”
Judith says, “Ian, I’ve taken over five military satellites to navigate a way out of this, but you must know the odds are 33 000 000 000 to 1. You’ll have to give me full control so I can tweak a few things. Your reflexes and strength will be amplified 300%. Your testosterone will be amplified by 500%. I will start producing adrenaline at an alarming rate. Your cortisol levels may in fact kill you. Ignore the sudden urge to take over a country and impregnate everything within it. But really, you’ll be dead in two minutes anyway so that’s about as good odds as you’re going to get it.”
Internally Remington says, “Take over Judith. Echo, Tago, Alfpha, Zulu 556231. Remington turns to the hologram and says, “We’ll be seeing you dickhead.” Then Remington’s head flops to the side and his eyes close like he passed out and Judith takes over.
The hologram says, “No need to try and escape the plane. The cabin is hermetically sealed and locked by a laser system that would take me all day to explain. You would need a fair amount of C4 to blast that door open.”
Remington roars a mighty war cry, rips off his shirt and beats his hairy chest like a gorilla with the sole purpose of mating. His muscles throb, arms shake and his body vibrates as Remington’s system prepares for war. Remington grabs onto the door. Every available vein has resurfaced. Remington screams as he attempts to peal the door off. The steel cracks and slowly pulls away. The wind whistles through the opening, and then finally the door rips away from the side of the plane. For the first time Doc Hologram appears worried. The plane encounters turbulence and a hurricane rushes in. Alarms go off and the emergency lights glow red. Remington pushes into the wind, grabs both sides of the jagged opening and with his head flapping in the wind like he’s sleeping, slingshots himself out and disappears into a white fluffy cloud.
… to be continued