Entry 1: Shiny, Tin-Can Men
Author: J.B.Kregg/Embedded Juornalist: Area 10 Troop 5
Bob was in a conscious state of mental gridlock. As this was not unfamiliar to his usual state of consciousness, Bob didn’t panic, even as the pair of red dots grew closer and closer. He stared coldly ahead at them… unflinchingly. He didn’t move, knowing he should. He did nothing.
Selli reached to the dimly lit, concrete floor. Her fingers wrapped around a cool, rusty hunk of metal and she picked it up using every bit of muscle she had. She swung the heavy A-arm from an old Ford, knocking over the pitted metal beast in pursuit of Bob. Its red eyes flickered, sputtered, sparked, and blinked out like a bad actor faking death in a low budget community play. Bob finally blinked. He grabbed Selli’s arm and darted toward the rear door of the garage. It burst open, slamming against the flaking, lead-based paint of the rotting wood siding. The garage resembled a Hopper painting reinterpreted by Tim Burton… creepy.
A torrent of glowing red dots closed in on Bob and Selli. Encircled, the pair stood, breathing heavily, engulfed in terror. The glow grew brighter, a sign of dominance from the solid state minds of the beasts. Selli took hold of Bob’s hand and slid next to him with a deep breath. Sweat trickled down Bob’s furrowed brow. His lips were dry. He squinted in anticipation as he listened to the ticking thoughts of the digital, alloy frames threatening the duo.
Smoke billowed from the side bay of the garage. The half bashed, aluminum door writhed in agony as it was torn from its track. The bay door slammed to the ground as a massive,yellow Chevrolet growled over it, bouncing on its course set to obliterate. The glowing dots abandoned their deluge. The glow of red dimmed in what could easily have been perceived as dread… dread in the eyes of machines. Machines of digital thought, preprogrammed to plunder and pillage. To destroy without an inkling of compassion. But here they were, apparently with digital hearts and souls, preparing for a new era of digi-botic evolution. A new system of reasoning seemed on the horizon, one from which brewed a sense of safe and unsafe… a birthing ground of fear. It was surely a good sign for Bob and Selli.
A pair of high intensity yellow beams illuminated the horrible, evolving, metal monsters. The red dots were almost invisible now. A breathtaking stench of burning rubber filled the air around the garage. The Hipcat roared through the flood of digi-bots… decapitating the vast majority of those who were too fear stricken to move. The Cat spun around, sending sparks flying into the deep darkness of the late evening as she bashed bots with metal on metal violence. The bots were decimated by the thick, steel fenders of the high revving feline. Bright yellow paint and thick, heavy, black tires became a blur as the Cat pulled doughnuts in the rear parking lot of the garage colliding with fragile alloy bot frames. She came to rest as the last bot fell to the concrete, sparking and twitching in pieces.
The headlights blinked out and the Cat’s passenger door opened. Bob rushed Selli into the front seat then slid across the hood to the driver’s side, climbing in as Leonard jumped into the tiny rear cargo area, abandoning the cushy, white captain’s chair, and pulled some safety-netting over his body. He knew how Bob liked to drive the Cat. The old ’58 Chevy roared to life again. Thick diesel fuel filled the cylinders and drove the steel pistons mad in their lairs with repeated, fiery explosions. Smoke poured from the rear wheels, masking the mass graveyard of trashed metal skeletons behind.
The Cat was bouncing down County Route ∞ (8… the sign was always tipped sideways) in a matter of seconds. The group raced past the diner, who’s usual neon glow was completely black in the country-side’s absolute darkness. Bob stood on the power break pedal and pulled the emergency handle on the custom console until the Cat’s rear-end swung wide around a once-lit corner. The Cat straightened herself out and sped down the dusty road at a blinding speed which was illegible on the old, analogue speedometer. The needle was spun and buried.
Selli placed her hand on Bob’s arm.
“You need to slow down. You’ll kill us.” She said calmly, as if nothing at all was wrong.
“If we don’t make it back to town before those tin-cans call for re-enforcements…” Bob let his thought trail as he released the accelerator.
“Thank you, both. I don’t have a seat belt back here. We’ll make it in time! I called ahead from the garage.” Leonard piped in.
In the distance, an eerie glow shown a beacon on Route 8. The town was being invaded. Shiny, tin-can men with brains of silicon and copper were seeking out new territory… and they found it in Summitt County.
