History Changers: Expedition 2022 by Beau Cornerstone
PARTICIPATION MODE was - well what the name implied. It was the mode Kojak stayed in during conversations between family members.
“Nando. I am monitoring your vital signs and your heart rate is up. Can I assist you?”
“Um... no. I was just thinking about doing something...”
I glanced down at Kojak and stared at his touch-switch until it blurred.
CHAT MODE was Kojak’s other communications setting choice. CHAT MODE was one-on-one with Kojak. It was the mode we could use if we felt we couldn’t share secrets with each other... The mode that would whisper wise suggestions when we needed personal advice.
I had never really used CHAT MODE. At least I had never really used it until recently. In the last week I’d switched over to CHAT MODE half a dozen times when no one else was around. But I’d said very little once I’m made the switch. I’d kinda just sat there...
Kojak had tolerated my awkward silence without comment. But I’d noticed an extraordinary amount of processing activity going on behind the scenes... I’d vaguely wondered what he was up to.
I drew a deep breath and selected CHAT MODE.
“Good evening Ferdinand,” greeted Kojak brightly.
“You know I hate being called that!”
“Hello then Nando.”
“I don’t like that anymore either. It sounds too babyish. How I ever landed a name like Ferdinand beats me.”
“The name is in your family lineage. On your mother’s side. Perhaps that’s why your parents chose the name for you at your birth.”
“You mean some of my descendents had to endure the same crazy name?”
“The name actually means ‘Bold Voyager’. And I know that at least one other Ferdinand Magellan lived up to his name. He was a Portuguese explorer who lived about six centuries ago.”
“I’ve heard of him but I forget the details... What did the dude do again?”
“He led the first known expedition across the Pacific Ocean.”
“Rad.”
“His expedition was also the first to circumnavigate the earth, although he didn’t finish the voyage.”
“Why not?”
“He was killed in a battle in the country once known as the Philippines.”
“Not so rad... Talking of names, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you about yours before. Is your name an acronym for something?”
“Your father says it stands for Keep our joy and kisses because I’m the family intermediary.”
“Yeah right!” I chuckled.
Kojak made a sound that resembled indigestion.
“Did you just laugh?”
“I was designed to imitate mirth in response to a shared joke.”
“You’ve never told me that before. Who designed you anyway?”
“That’s classified.”
“Classified? You’ve never told me anything was classified before either.”
“You’ve never asked me anything classified before.”
“Okay... I’ll give your classified designer a nickname then... How about... David?”
Kojak paused.
“Is there a reason that you’ve chosen the name David?”
“Mum says your voice sounds like Grandpa’s. And his name was David.”
“Your suggested nickname has caused an internal conflict in my chat programme. I need to consult a remote source before I can approve it.”
“Take your time,” I said, with a hint of curiosity.
Ω
Consult a remote source?
Kojak’s chat mode was very different to his General Participation mode. Particularly his comebacks and one-liners. Where could the remote source possibly be when he was ours?!
Originally Kojak had been imbedded in a gameboy which mum’s parents had given her. As nanotechnology had advanced, Kojak had made improvements to himself, and mum had started wearing him as showy earrings. When mum had married, he had presented a copy of himself to dad as a wedding present - in the form of a wristwatch. My sister Gem wore him on her wrist too - as a bangle with a series of charms which activated his various applications. And I wore him as a pendant around my neck.
Lately though, whenever I went out, I had taken to wearing the pendant hidden under my clothes. Not that wearing a pendant looked out of place - lots of kids wore pendant personal locator beacons so their parents could track their whereabouts and the amount of background radiation they had been exposed to. And I knew Kojak was infinitely more sophisticated than a PLB. But it was embarrassing to be seen wearing something that looked like a PLB when you were thirteen. I had hinted it would be cool if I could start carrying Kojak as a pocket knife... But dad and mum had negated the idea, saying it would cause too much trouble when I passed through the Watchers weapons search scanners.
Kojak made a sound which resembled someone clearing their throat to break through my reverie.
“Your nickname for my designer is accepted. I am permitted to add that my designer was actually given the name David at birth.”
“Sick!”
“My new database for chat mode requires clarification. Do you mean sick as in throw up your guts or sick as in feeling delighted?”
“Sick as in delighted... you know... rad... wicked... cool! Actually, I’ve never heard you say your database requires clarification either.”
“That’s because you’ve only just started sharing your private thoughts and feelings with me.”
Right this minute my private thoughts and feelings were running wild.
“Your designer David must have been a genius to have given you such a personality in chat mode,” I managed to say.
“Yes. His IQ was comparable with other geniuses.”
I looked at Kojak intently... Not that there was anything of him to see except a blinking cursor.
“What did David look like anyway?” I ventured.
“I have access to 2135 photos of him... Would you like to narrow down the field to a preferred age?”
“A preferred age? Let’s see... I’ve always secretly wanted an older brother. But not too old. Have you got a photo of David when he was... let’s see... about twenty?”
“Yes. I have fifty-one photos of him when he was twenty. This is the highest quality photo.”
I glanced down at the screen. A photo of a well built young man with wild black curls and a square jaw-line smiled back at me.
“What’ya know? His nose is the spitting image of mine. Poor bloke!”
“The DNA signature of your nose is different to David’s, but I agree the bone structure is quite similar. Would you like me to run a full facial analysis comparing your features with his?”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“Nah... I just wanted to personalize you in chat mode. You know - replace that blinking cursor that’s supposed to be you with something more human-looking... There ya go big brother Kojak - now you’ve got a face!”
Kojak blinked away rapidly as if his processor was mega-overloaded. I studied the photo again.
“So what was your designer David like anyway?”
“Clarify what time-frame you are talking about.”
“Huh?”
“Was is past tense and the field is too broad for me to accurately answer your question. Would you specify which dates are of interest to you?”
“What range of dates do you have?”
“All dates from his birth up to the present, excluding most of December 23, 2022...”
Life is either a great adventure or nothing. -Helen Keller
December 23, 2022. The End Of The World As We Knew It. Or TEOTWAWKI for short. Curiously some of the ancients had thought that a date ten years previously - the end of the 13th Mayan b’ak’tun - would be the end of the world. December 23, 2012 had come and gone without a hiccup. But exactly ten years later the world had ended. Well... It wasn’t quite the end of the world, but it was the end of almost every computer record on the planet... And in the new accounts of recent history it was now called the Eve
nt. Because TEOTWAWKI was a bit of a mouthful.
“All right - what was David like - the day this photo was taken?” I ventured.
“His adrenaline levels were elevated.”
I was surprised by Kojak’s answer.
“Why?”
“It was 06:00 hours on December 23, 2022 and he was very concerned for our safety.”
“Is that right? Well you can’t tell it from his smile. Who took the photo anyway?”
“I took it at his request.”
“On December 23, 2022? Hang on... Rewind... If you took this photo of David before the Event - that means you survived the Event, Kojak!”
“Yes. Although technically it was a different version of me - David’s prototype version - that survived the Event. I am a third generation version of my archetype. With different memories.”
“But you can access the memories of that early version of you that survived the Event, right?” I said excitedly.
“Yes. Every memory is stored on David’s central mainframe and is retrievable.”
“David’s mainframe? But that means you’re still David’s Kojak as well as our family’s Kojak?!”
“Yes.”
“So David’s version of you knows who I am?”
“Of course. We file-share everything. And develop solutions together if you ask me something unexpected...”
“... or something internally conflicting...” I murmured.
“Correct.”
“Rad!” I cried exuberantly.
I had always assumed Kojak was AE. After-the-Event like every other computer in my life. The fact that part of him at least was BE - or Before-the-Event was wildly exhilarating.
Kojak sensed my excitement and mimicked it. I rested my chin in my palms.
“So did you eye-witness the Event, Kojak?”
“No, I was shut down by David after I took the photo of him for my own safety. Although I started recorded David’s eyewitness experiences, as soon as he had my processor up and running again on December 24, 2022. And processed the video footage he took.”
“Can you still access data from before December 23, 2022?”
“It was archived years ago but I could retrieve it from David’s mainframe.”
“So you might have footage of life before the Event in the mainframe archives?” I continued.
“Well there are at least 1200 archived files with .mpg, .mov, .avi and .wmv extensions, so some of them probably have BE footage. Particularly the ones that utilized Windows.”
“What was Windows?”
“A BE computer operating system. David began using it in AD 2010.”
“Can you tell me all about it?”
“I can teach you to use it if you like. Then you can unpack and view the footage in all the accessible folders to your heart’s content.”
“All the accessible folders? Why are some of the archived folders inaccessible?” I asked curiously.
“They contain recordings made by David’s archetype and he’s made them inaccessible. Presumably so they can’t accidentally be deleted.”
“Wow! They sound important... Can you see what’s in them for me?”
“One moment... Hmmm...They’re password protected... In an unusual fashion however... They require a date, time and hour to tick over before they can be unlocked.”
“Like a time capsule... Cool! Let me know when they’re accessible, won’t you Kojak? I’m curious about their contents.”
“I’m curious about their contents myself,” replied Kojak. “I should be able to access every file created by any of my predecessors! I’ll have to ask David to fix that programming glitch next time he’s in Administrator mode. Judging from the file properties summary however, the time-locked files are only low resolution memoir recordings. Similar to the recordings I’ve made of you on special occasions... You know... family holidays... birthdays and so on.”
“Wow! I can’t wait to see what footage is in the time capsule files when your designer gets them unlocked. What about BE .jpeg files? Have you got any archives of documents that were downloaded off the internet before December 23, 2022? So I can see what the internet was like?”
“I have snapshots of some internet pages. Mostly of topics which David was interested in. I’ll dig them up for you and put them in a folder labelled BE miscellany. And make sure it’s accessible to you!”
“Thanks Kojak... I still don’t get one thing though. Virtually every electronic device fried and anything that had electronics in it stopped working during the E/M spikes. How come Grandpa Kojak survived?”
“Grand-pa Ko-jak?” echoed Kojak slowly.
“Yeah... Remember you said you’re the third generation improvement on David’s prototype. So that means his original prototype was your Grandpa.”
Kojak paused for a long moment... Again his processor seemed mega-overloaded.
“The name you have chosen for my archetype is accepted... To answer your question, Grandpa Kojak and David worked out what measures they would need to take to ensure their survival during the Event, and David implemented the advice.”
“How did they know the Event was going to happen?”
“Well... Before the Event, the earth’s magnetic field pointed 11.5 degrees off true north - which also happened to be the perfect angle to shield earth from dangerous charged particles from the sun. Scientists also knew that the earth’s magnetic field was decaying about 5% per century.”
“5% per century? That means it was getting weaker and weaker.”
“Yes. Two scientists named Sarfati and Humphreys believed the rapidly decaying magnetic field was evidence that the earth was young and they predicted that the earth’s poles would reverse in the near future. Pockets of discerning people started taking this minority view seriously and prepare for a future reversal of the poles. Which infuriated the mainstream scientists.”
“Why?”
“They stood to lose research funding if the minority view gained momentum. Anyway in 2022, a team of scientists set out to discredit the increasingly resolute minority view once and for all. This team, led by Rick Dawk, intentionally used E/M weapons to generate a large scale Tesla effect and move the earth’s magnetic field over to 45 degrees of north - to ‘prove’ the minority view was wrong.”
“And no one tried to stop them?!” I gasped.
“David’s father tried. His name was Harrison Garmin. He was a well known eco-warrior who had a reputation for siding with scientists who were ostracized for speaking out the truth. Unfortunately most people wanted to believe Rick Dawk - not the minority scientists or environmentalists like Harrison.”
“Why?”
“Well, Dawk told the media that moving the magnetic field to 45 degrees would make E/M weather modification possible on a global scale - which would solve climate change and make cyclones, drought and blizzards a thing of the past. As you know however, Dawk was wrong. The E/M experiments generated large scale magnetic resonance in the earth’s core...”
“... which triggered a wave of natural disasters that changed the face of the earth.”
“Sadly. Fortunately David’s preparations were thorough. Shutting me down, encasing me in lead and riding out the Event together in a sea container prevented my demise. And his...”
Restlessness and discontent are the first necessities of progress.
-Thomas A. Edison
Demise.
Kojak’s language in chat mode was quaint. Demise was an archaic word which was not on The Watchers communications vocabulary list. But the word demise aptly described what had happened after the E/M spikes had inverted the earth around on its axis like it was a toy.
Every unprotected electronic device was wiped out worldwide when the magnetic poles reversed. Bank records, title deeds, birth certificates, death certificates, social security records, tax records and academic achievements disappeared... Huge chunks of knowledge about the last three thousand years - vaporized... Information about the inventio
ns of previous civilizations - their everyday skills and their technical knowledge... information that would have assisted AE survivors - gone. Four billion people had died that first week... Over the next few months another two billion people had died - mostly from inclement weather, particle-bombardment sickness and acts of anarchy associated with hunger and starvation. Most of the remaining survivors lived in isolated areas - in countries like Australia and Alaska. They spent their days preserving the knowledge base and attempting to improve their AE lifestyles. There was no overarching government, police force or military. But a remnant of Australian scientists had forged out ahead and formed The Watchers. Their primary role was to ensure that no one would ever abuse E/M technology again.
“You are reflective again,” observed Kojak. “Is this trait becoming part of your personality?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied absently.
Every time I thought about it, I felt angry... Why had BE academics kept so few non-electronic records at the start of the 21st Century? Or at least listened to the minority view scientists and encased their digital records in lead.
So much information about the past had been lost...
The part of my mind that wasn’t brooding finally realized the implications of Kojak’s earlier answer.
“Back up Kojak... You said before that David’s still alive... I’d like to meet him one day. Do you think you could arrange it?”
“Why would you like to meet him?”
“Well David designed you into that game-boy that Grandpa gave to mum. So maybe he might remember what Grandpa was like.”
“That is logical.”
“And I’ve always wanted to know what Grandpa was like...” I continued.
Silence.
“Hey Kojak. I’ve just realized. Part of you has always been part of our family. Do you remember what Grandpa was like?”
“Was is past tense and the field is too broad for me to answer your question. Would you specify which dates are of interest to you?”
Déjà vu.
“What range of dates do you have?” I asked breathlessly.
“All dates from his birth up to the present, excluding part of December 23, 2022.”
Another bombshell. Kojak tactfully said nothing about my bounding pulse.
I struggled to continue the conversation.
“But Grandpa’s dead, Kojak. Mum told me he died when she was a little girl.”
“The information you were told is not correct.”
“Okay. What is Grandpa like?”
“That information is classified private.”
I decided to rephrase the question.
“Okay. What was Grandpa doing at... ten o’clock this morning?”
“He was tending to his garden.”
I jumped visibly as Mum strolled in through the door of our living cell. Dad and Gem ambled in behind her.
“Do you have any further questions?” probed Kojak.
“Not right this minute,” I whispered. “Please classify the conversation as private.”
“Acknowledged,” replied Kojak, as I quickly switched him back to General Participation mode.
Condemnation without investigation is the height of ignorance.
-Albert Einstein
Dad placed his plate under a series of tubes in the kitchen. Kitchen Assistant measured out his meal based on her calculation of his caloric needs. Mum and Gem did likewise. I dawdled towards Kitchen Assistant and reluctantly held out my plate. Three huge piles of identically textured nutrition were deposited on it.
I sighed and plonked myself down at the table with the others.
“It’s not fair! Look how much KA has given Nando!” groused Gem hungrily.
Recently Kitchen Assistant had apparently detected growth hormones and low sugar levels in my bloodstream, and almost doubled my portion size.
“I agree it’s not fair,” I retorted. “No one should be forced to eat this much.”
I clandestinely swapped plates with Gem. Gem beamed with delight. Mum raised her eyebrows as she watched Gem hoe into my meal.
Dad poured himself a glass of vitamin-enriched water.
“Fancy a family holiday this Christmas?” he said casually.
“Yaba-daba-doo!” replied Gem enthusiastically.
Gem was into re-runs of 20th Century cartoons.
“Why?” I asked, looking at Dad.
“Your mother and I have an assignment.”
“Cool!”
“Actually it’ll be pretty hot...” countered Mum.
“Why?”
“It’s in Zone 5.”
“Zone 5?!” Gem and I echoed in unison.
We’d been as far as Zone 2 as a family, but none of us had ever been to Zone 5. Not even Dad. Zone 5 had been off-limits to Watchers for years, because before I was born, two Watchers had gone to Zone 5 and never returned.
“You can both stay at the Watcher’s lodgings if you’d prefer not to come with us,” continued Dad.
“No. We’ll come!” we said together.
Dad and Mum both raised their eyebrows. Gem and I rarely agreed on anything.
Sombre silence.
“Why Christmas in Zone 5?” I asked to break it.
Dad put aside his plate and activated the touchscreen keyboard which was built into our dining-room table. His fingers flew over the keyboard. A moment later a satellite map of Zone 5 appeared on our 2050 cm monitor. Dad zoomed in and indicated a fuzzy green patch with his laser pointer. I looked at it and shrugged.
“So? Some eccentric survivalist has planted a few shrubs in the outback.”
“I agree attempting to grow anything in Zone 5 suggests eccentricity... but this is what’s caught the attention of the Watchers.”
Dad’s fingers flew over the keyboard again. A series of ever-narrowing red lines superimposed themselves around the green patch.
“It could be a natural hot spot, where the earth’s magnetic field is concentrating... Like a new pole,” I shrugged. “It’s a bit hard to tell from the snap...”
“Agreed... There’s scant satellite coverage of the area, so we don’t have any high resolution photos. But I’ve determined that the total electron content of the ionosphere over this area is higher than it was when I last checked it 14 years ago...”
“So? Some eccentric survivalist has been experimenting with E/M weather modification so he can revegetate Zone 5.”
Mum frowned slightly. Dad beamed at me.
“Has someone been tuning into his ancient physics lessons for a change?”
“Selectively.”
“He’s been reading about weather modification... From a book!” piped up Gem.
She said the word book melodramatically. Like reading a book was a criminal offence.
“You said you wouldn’t tell!” I complained.
“What book?” said Mum sharply.
“Your pulse is elevated Mani... Are you distressed?” asked Kojak.
“Disregard Kojak,” snapped Mum.
“Acknowledged.”
I glanced down at my pendant and smiled at Kojak. He purred back... which was his way of smiling in General Communications Mode... I couldn’t wait until tea was over so I could turn him back to Chat Mode and ask him all about life before the Event... and Grandpa... and his designer David...
Mum’s voice pierced shrilly through my musing.
“What book Nando?!” she repeated.
“I found it in the sea container. In this old trunk.”
“What were you doing in there?” cross examined Mum.
“Your pulse is rapid. You are definitely distressed Amani,” interjected Kojak.
“Disregard!” repeated Mum.
Kojak said nothing. He was programmed to model wisdom and diffuse tense situations.
“You told me to go in there, remember? You loaded me up with an armful of clothes that were too small for Gem and told me to put them somewhere in the container. I looked around for somewhere and found
the trunk. It was full of books, so I took some of them out to make room for the clothes. And started reading one of the books because it was interesting. Ask Kojak!”
“His recollection of events is correct,” piped up Kojak.
Mum rolled her eyes. Dad chuckled.
“So when do we do the family holiday thing in the middle of nowhere?” asked Gem.
“First light tomorrow. Go and pack. Kojak - make sure they pack their radiation suits and enough smart clothes for a week’s stay in Zone 5.”
“Yes Mani.”
“And appropriate footwear for unexpected deviations in the weather,” added Dad. “In case someone really has re-discovered how to modify the weather...”
“Acknowledged Leo,” replied Kojak softly.
“Nando. I am monitoring your vital signs and your heart rate is up. Can I assist you?”
“Um... no. I was just thinking about doing something...”
I glanced down at Kojak and stared at his touch-switch until it blurred.
CHAT MODE was Kojak’s other communications setting choice. CHAT MODE was one-on-one with Kojak. It was the mode we could use if we felt we couldn’t share secrets with each other... The mode that would whisper wise suggestions when we needed personal advice.
I had never really used CHAT MODE. At least I had never really used it until recently. In the last week I’d switched over to CHAT MODE half a dozen times when no one else was around. But I’d said very little once I’m made the switch. I’d kinda just sat there...
Kojak had tolerated my awkward silence without comment. But I’d noticed an extraordinary amount of processing activity going on behind the scenes... I’d vaguely wondered what he was up to.
I drew a deep breath and selected CHAT MODE.
“Good evening Ferdinand,” greeted Kojak brightly.
“You know I hate being called that!”
“Hello then Nando.”
“I don’t like that anymore either. It sounds too babyish. How I ever landed a name like Ferdinand beats me.”
“The name is in your family lineage. On your mother’s side. Perhaps that’s why your parents chose the name for you at your birth.”
“You mean some of my descendents had to endure the same crazy name?”
“The name actually means ‘Bold Voyager’. And I know that at least one other Ferdinand Magellan lived up to his name. He was a Portuguese explorer who lived about six centuries ago.”
“I’ve heard of him but I forget the details... What did the dude do again?”
“He led the first known expedition across the Pacific Ocean.”
“Rad.”
“His expedition was also the first to circumnavigate the earth, although he didn’t finish the voyage.”
“Why not?”
“He was killed in a battle in the country once known as the Philippines.”
“Not so rad... Talking of names, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you about yours before. Is your name an acronym for something?”
“Your father says it stands for Keep our joy and kisses because I’m the family intermediary.”
“Yeah right!” I chuckled.
Kojak made a sound that resembled indigestion.
“Did you just laugh?”
“I was designed to imitate mirth in response to a shared joke.”
“You’ve never told me that before. Who designed you anyway?”
“That’s classified.”
“Classified? You’ve never told me anything was classified before either.”
“You’ve never asked me anything classified before.”
“Okay... I’ll give your classified designer a nickname then... How about... David?”
Kojak paused.
“Is there a reason that you’ve chosen the name David?”
“Mum says your voice sounds like Grandpa’s. And his name was David.”
“Your suggested nickname has caused an internal conflict in my chat programme. I need to consult a remote source before I can approve it.”
“Take your time,” I said, with a hint of curiosity.
Ω
Consult a remote source?
Kojak’s chat mode was very different to his General Participation mode. Particularly his comebacks and one-liners. Where could the remote source possibly be when he was ours?!
Originally Kojak had been imbedded in a gameboy which mum’s parents had given her. As nanotechnology had advanced, Kojak had made improvements to himself, and mum had started wearing him as showy earrings. When mum had married, he had presented a copy of himself to dad as a wedding present - in the form of a wristwatch. My sister Gem wore him on her wrist too - as a bangle with a series of charms which activated his various applications. And I wore him as a pendant around my neck.
Lately though, whenever I went out, I had taken to wearing the pendant hidden under my clothes. Not that wearing a pendant looked out of place - lots of kids wore pendant personal locator beacons so their parents could track their whereabouts and the amount of background radiation they had been exposed to. And I knew Kojak was infinitely more sophisticated than a PLB. But it was embarrassing to be seen wearing something that looked like a PLB when you were thirteen. I had hinted it would be cool if I could start carrying Kojak as a pocket knife... But dad and mum had negated the idea, saying it would cause too much trouble when I passed through the Watchers weapons search scanners.
Kojak made a sound which resembled someone clearing their throat to break through my reverie.
“Your nickname for my designer is accepted. I am permitted to add that my designer was actually given the name David at birth.”
“Sick!”
“My new database for chat mode requires clarification. Do you mean sick as in throw up your guts or sick as in feeling delighted?”
“Sick as in delighted... you know... rad... wicked... cool! Actually, I’ve never heard you say your database requires clarification either.”
“That’s because you’ve only just started sharing your private thoughts and feelings with me.”
Right this minute my private thoughts and feelings were running wild.
“Your designer David must have been a genius to have given you such a personality in chat mode,” I managed to say.
“Yes. His IQ was comparable with other geniuses.”
I looked at Kojak intently... Not that there was anything of him to see except a blinking cursor.
“What did David look like anyway?” I ventured.
“I have access to 2135 photos of him... Would you like to narrow down the field to a preferred age?”
“A preferred age? Let’s see... I’ve always secretly wanted an older brother. But not too old. Have you got a photo of David when he was... let’s see... about twenty?”
“Yes. I have fifty-one photos of him when he was twenty. This is the highest quality photo.”
I glanced down at the screen. A photo of a well built young man with wild black curls and a square jaw-line smiled back at me.
“What’ya know? His nose is the spitting image of mine. Poor bloke!”
“The DNA signature of your nose is different to David’s, but I agree the bone structure is quite similar. Would you like me to run a full facial analysis comparing your features with his?”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“Nah... I just wanted to personalize you in chat mode. You know - replace that blinking cursor that’s supposed to be you with something more human-looking... There ya go big brother Kojak - now you’ve got a face!”
Kojak blinked away rapidly as if his processor was mega-overloaded. I studied the photo again.
“So what was your designer David like anyway?”
“Clarify what time-frame you are talking about.”
“Huh?”
“Was is past tense and the field is too broad for me to accurately answer your question. Would you specify which dates are of interest to you?”
“What range of dates do you have?”
“All dates from his birth up to the present, excluding most of December 23, 2022...”
Life is either a great adventure or nothing. -Helen Keller
December 23, 2022. The End Of The World As We Knew It. Or TEOTWAWKI for short. Curiously some of the ancients had thought that a date ten years previously - the end of the 13th Mayan b’ak’tun - would be the end of the world. December 23, 2012 had come and gone without a hiccup. But exactly ten years later the world had ended. Well... It wasn’t quite the end of the world, but it was the end of almost every computer record on the planet... And in the new accounts of recent history it was now called the Eve
“All right - what was David like - the day this photo was taken?” I ventured.
“His adrenaline levels were elevated.”
I was surprised by Kojak’s answer.
“Why?”
“It was 06:00 hours on December 23, 2022 and he was very concerned for our safety.”
“Is that right? Well you can’t tell it from his smile. Who took the photo anyway?”
“I took it at his request.”
“On December 23, 2022? Hang on... Rewind... If you took this photo of David before the Event - that means you survived the Event, Kojak!”
“Yes. Although technically it was a different version of me - David’s prototype version - that survived the Event. I am a third generation version of my archetype. With different memories.”
“But you can access the memories of that early version of you that survived the Event, right?” I said excitedly.
“Yes. Every memory is stored on David’s central mainframe and is retrievable.”
“David’s mainframe? But that means you’re still David’s Kojak as well as our family’s Kojak?!”
“Yes.”
“So David’s version of you knows who I am?”
“Of course. We file-share everything. And develop solutions together if you ask me something unexpected...”
“... or something internally conflicting...” I murmured.
“Correct.”
“Rad!” I cried exuberantly.
I had always assumed Kojak was AE. After-the-Event like every other computer in my life. The fact that part of him at least was BE - or Before-the-Event was wildly exhilarating.
Kojak sensed my excitement and mimicked it. I rested my chin in my palms.
“So did you eye-witness the Event, Kojak?”
“No, I was shut down by David after I took the photo of him for my own safety. Although I started recorded David’s eyewitness experiences, as soon as he had my processor up and running again on December 24, 2022. And processed the video footage he took.”
“Can you still access data from before December 23, 2022?”
“It was archived years ago but I could retrieve it from David’s mainframe.”
“So you might have footage of life before the Event in the mainframe archives?” I continued.
“Well there are at least 1200 archived files with .mpg, .mov, .avi and .wmv extensions, so some of them probably have BE footage. Particularly the ones that utilized Windows.”
“What was Windows?”
“A BE computer operating system. David began using it in AD 2010.”
“Can you tell me all about it?”
“I can teach you to use it if you like. Then you can unpack and view the footage in all the accessible folders to your heart’s content.”
“All the accessible folders? Why are some of the archived folders inaccessible?” I asked curiously.
“They contain recordings made by David’s archetype and he’s made them inaccessible. Presumably so they can’t accidentally be deleted.”
“Wow! They sound important... Can you see what’s in them for me?”
“One moment... Hmmm...They’re password protected... In an unusual fashion however... They require a date, time and hour to tick over before they can be unlocked.”
“Like a time capsule... Cool! Let me know when they’re accessible, won’t you Kojak? I’m curious about their contents.”
“I’m curious about their contents myself,” replied Kojak. “I should be able to access every file created by any of my predecessors! I’ll have to ask David to fix that programming glitch next time he’s in Administrator mode. Judging from the file properties summary however, the time-locked files are only low resolution memoir recordings. Similar to the recordings I’ve made of you on special occasions... You know... family holidays... birthdays and so on.”
“Wow! I can’t wait to see what footage is in the time capsule files when your designer gets them unlocked. What about BE .jpeg files? Have you got any archives of documents that were downloaded off the internet before December 23, 2022? So I can see what the internet was like?”
“I have snapshots of some internet pages. Mostly of topics which David was interested in. I’ll dig them up for you and put them in a folder labelled BE miscellany. And make sure it’s accessible to you!”
“Thanks Kojak... I still don’t get one thing though. Virtually every electronic device fried and anything that had electronics in it stopped working during the E/M spikes. How come Grandpa Kojak survived?”
“Grand-pa Ko-jak?” echoed Kojak slowly.
“Yeah... Remember you said you’re the third generation improvement on David’s prototype. So that means his original prototype was your Grandpa.”
Kojak paused for a long moment... Again his processor seemed mega-overloaded.
“The name you have chosen for my archetype is accepted... To answer your question, Grandpa Kojak and David worked out what measures they would need to take to ensure their survival during the Event, and David implemented the advice.”
“How did they know the Event was going to happen?”
“Well... Before the Event, the earth’s magnetic field pointed 11.5 degrees off true north - which also happened to be the perfect angle to shield earth from dangerous charged particles from the sun. Scientists also knew that the earth’s magnetic field was decaying about 5% per century.”
“5% per century? That means it was getting weaker and weaker.”
“Yes. Two scientists named Sarfati and Humphreys believed the rapidly decaying magnetic field was evidence that the earth was young and they predicted that the earth’s poles would reverse in the near future. Pockets of discerning people started taking this minority view seriously and prepare for a future reversal of the poles. Which infuriated the mainstream scientists.”
“Why?”
“They stood to lose research funding if the minority view gained momentum. Anyway in 2022, a team of scientists set out to discredit the increasingly resolute minority view once and for all. This team, led by Rick Dawk, intentionally used E/M weapons to generate a large scale Tesla effect and move the earth’s magnetic field over to 45 degrees of north - to ‘prove’ the minority view was wrong.”
“And no one tried to stop them?!” I gasped.
“David’s father tried. His name was Harrison Garmin. He was a well known eco-warrior who had a reputation for siding with scientists who were ostracized for speaking out the truth. Unfortunately most people wanted to believe Rick Dawk - not the minority scientists or environmentalists like Harrison.”
“Why?”
“Well, Dawk told the media that moving the magnetic field to 45 degrees would make E/M weather modification possible on a global scale - which would solve climate change and make cyclones, drought and blizzards a thing of the past. As you know however, Dawk was wrong. The E/M experiments generated large scale magnetic resonance in the earth’s core...”
“... which triggered a wave of natural disasters that changed the face of the earth.”
“Sadly. Fortunately David’s preparations were thorough. Shutting me down, encasing me in lead and riding out the Event together in a sea container prevented my demise. And his...”
Restlessness and discontent are the first necessities of progress.
-Thomas A. Edison
Demise.
Kojak’s language in chat mode was quaint. Demise was an archaic word which was not on The Watchers communications vocabulary list. But the word demise aptly described what had happened after the E/M spikes had inverted the earth around on its axis like it was a toy.
Every unprotected electronic device was wiped out worldwide when the magnetic poles reversed. Bank records, title deeds, birth certificates, death certificates, social security records, tax records and academic achievements disappeared... Huge chunks of knowledge about the last three thousand years - vaporized... Information about the inventio
“You are reflective again,” observed Kojak. “Is this trait becoming part of your personality?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied absently.
Every time I thought about it, I felt angry... Why had BE academics kept so few non-electronic records at the start of the 21st Century? Or at least listened to the minority view scientists and encased their digital records in lead.
So much information about the past had been lost...
The part of my mind that wasn’t brooding finally realized the implications of Kojak’s earlier answer.
“Back up Kojak... You said before that David’s still alive... I’d like to meet him one day. Do you think you could arrange it?”
“Why would you like to meet him?”
“Well David designed you into that game-boy that Grandpa gave to mum. So maybe he might remember what Grandpa was like.”
“That is logical.”
“And I’ve always wanted to know what Grandpa was like...” I continued.
Silence.
“Hey Kojak. I’ve just realized. Part of you has always been part of our family. Do you remember what Grandpa was like?”
“Was is past tense and the field is too broad for me to answer your question. Would you specify which dates are of interest to you?”
Déjà vu.
“What range of dates do you have?” I asked breathlessly.
“All dates from his birth up to the present, excluding part of December 23, 2022.”
Another bombshell. Kojak tactfully said nothing about my bounding pulse.
I struggled to continue the conversation.
“But Grandpa’s dead, Kojak. Mum told me he died when she was a little girl.”
“The information you were told is not correct.”
“Okay. What is Grandpa like?”
“That information is classified private.”
I decided to rephrase the question.
“Okay. What was Grandpa doing at... ten o’clock this morning?”
“He was tending to his garden.”
I jumped visibly as Mum strolled in through the door of our living cell. Dad and Gem ambled in behind her.
“Do you have any further questions?” probed Kojak.
“Not right this minute,” I whispered. “Please classify the conversation as private.”
“Acknowledged,” replied Kojak, as I quickly switched him back to General Participation mode.
Condemnation without investigation is the height of ignorance.
-Albert Einstein
Dad placed his plate under a series of tubes in the kitchen. Kitchen Assistant measured out his meal based on her calculation of his caloric needs. Mum and Gem did likewise. I dawdled towards Kitchen Assistant and reluctantly held out my plate. Three huge piles of identically textured nutrition were deposited on it.
I sighed and plonked myself down at the table with the others.
“It’s not fair! Look how much KA has given Nando!” groused Gem hungrily.
Recently Kitchen Assistant had apparently detected growth hormones and low sugar levels in my bloodstream, and almost doubled my portion size.
“I agree it’s not fair,” I retorted. “No one should be forced to eat this much.”
I clandestinely swapped plates with Gem. Gem beamed with delight. Mum raised her eyebrows as she watched Gem hoe into my meal.
Dad poured himself a glass of vitamin-enriched water.
“Fancy a family holiday this Christmas?” he said casually.
“Yaba-daba-doo!” replied Gem enthusiastically.
Gem was into re-runs of 20th Century cartoons.
“Why?” I asked, looking at Dad.
“Your mother and I have an assignment.”
“Cool!”
“Actually it’ll be pretty hot...” countered Mum.
“Why?”
“It’s in Zone 5.”
“Zone 5?!” Gem and I echoed in unison.
We’d been as far as Zone 2 as a family, but none of us had ever been to Zone 5. Not even Dad. Zone 5 had been off-limits to Watchers for years, because before I was born, two Watchers had gone to Zone 5 and never returned.
“You can both stay at the Watcher’s lodgings if you’d prefer not to come with us,” continued Dad.
“No. We’ll come!” we said together.
Dad and Mum both raised their eyebrows. Gem and I rarely agreed on anything.
Sombre silence.
“Why Christmas in Zone 5?” I asked to break it.
Dad put aside his plate and activated the touchscreen keyboard which was built into our dining-room table. His fingers flew over the keyboard. A moment later a satellite map of Zone 5 appeared on our 2050 cm monitor. Dad zoomed in and indicated a fuzzy green patch with his laser pointer. I looked at it and shrugged.
“So? Some eccentric survivalist has planted a few shrubs in the outback.”
“I agree attempting to grow anything in Zone 5 suggests eccentricity... but this is what’s caught the attention of the Watchers.”
Dad’s fingers flew over the keyboard again. A series of ever-narrowing red lines superimposed themselves around the green patch.
“It could be a natural hot spot, where the earth’s magnetic field is concentrating... Like a new pole,” I shrugged. “It’s a bit hard to tell from the snap...”
“Agreed... There’s scant satellite coverage of the area, so we don’t have any high resolution photos. But I’ve determined that the total electron content of the ionosphere over this area is higher than it was when I last checked it 14 years ago...”
“So? Some eccentric survivalist has been experimenting with E/M weather modification so he can revegetate Zone 5.”
Mum frowned slightly. Dad beamed at me.
“Has someone been tuning into his ancient physics lessons for a change?”
“Selectively.”
“He’s been reading about weather modification... From a book!” piped up Gem.
She said the word book melodramatically. Like reading a book was a criminal offence.
“You said you wouldn’t tell!” I complained.
“What book?” said Mum sharply.
“Your pulse is elevated Mani... Are you distressed?” asked Kojak.
“Disregard Kojak,” snapped Mum.
“Acknowledged.”
I glanced down at my pendant and smiled at Kojak. He purred back... which was his way of smiling in General Communications Mode... I couldn’t wait until tea was over so I could turn him back to Chat Mode and ask him all about life before the Event... and Grandpa... and his designer David...
Mum’s voice pierced shrilly through my musing.
“What book Nando?!” she repeated.
“I found it in the sea container. In this old trunk.”
“What were you doing in there?” cross examined Mum.
“Your pulse is rapid. You are definitely distressed Amani,” interjected Kojak.
“Disregard!” repeated Mum.
Kojak said nothing. He was programmed to model wisdom and diffuse tense situations.
“You told me to go in there, remember? You loaded me up with an armful of clothes that were too small for Gem and told me to put them somewhere in the container. I looked around for somewhere and found
“His recollection of events is correct,” piped up Kojak.
Mum rolled her eyes. Dad chuckled.
“So when do we do the family holiday thing in the middle of nowhere?” asked Gem.
“First light tomorrow. Go and pack. Kojak - make sure they pack their radiation suits and enough smart clothes for a week’s stay in Zone 5.”
“Yes Mani.”
“And appropriate footwear for unexpected deviations in the weather,” added Dad. “In case someone really has re-discovered how to modify the weather...”
“Acknowledged Leo,” replied Kojak softly.