The Electric Eagle

Chapter 5 - Into the Storm

In 2034, thousands were washed away by tsunamis across Northern Europe. The sea separating Copenhagen and Malmo crashed into the silent cities, the bridges connecting the fjords split, falling into the rough waters hugging Norway's coast. As one year ticked into the next, tropical storms thrashed through Puerto Rico and its Caribbean neighbours, their ferocious winds and torrential rains drowning thousands more. Environmental collapse surged through the world like an unstoppable wrecking ball, tearing apart ecosystems and erasing lives with brutal indifference. Amidst this global calamity, a beacon of hope emerged from Norway. A company named Sjøfugl began an ambitious project to build rescue planes. Engineers toiled tirelessly, piecing together massive amounts of metal, believing they were on the brink of a breakthrough in environmental technology. These planes, inspired by Norway's national bird, were crafted to be the ultimate saviours in a time of crisis. They were designed with the capability to soar through the skies for days on end without needing to refuel, their bodies engineered to be both hollow and strong. The planes were not just marvels of engineering but symbols of resilience. They could ascend to the highest reaches of the earth's atmosphere, their sleek forms cutting through the thin air, and descend swiftly to the ground within moments. Controlled by artificial intelligence, these newly dubbed electric eagles were equipped with piercing blue eyes, capable of scanning minute details across hundreds of miles. The technology aimed to be an ever-watchful guardian, searching for those stranded or lost in the world's escalating chaos.

In the winter of 2042, the rainfall had started to cause mass floods across the world. Already plagued by seasonal draughts and tsunamis, the earth started to collapse under the weight of the rain. Thousands plunged into the floods, their dead bodies bobbing across the sea for miles around. Months into the rainfall, Sjøfugl were bought by the Overcasts. Before their ascent to political power, the Overcasts were a fiercely religious organisation. They prayed on the politically disillusioned and those left hopeless by the collapse of their homes and deaths of their loved ones. Quickly, the group amassed a great wealth by monopolising critical enterprises across the world; first, the railway lines, then the energy plants. When the Overcasts took control of the electric eagles, they cloaked their intentions in promises of salvation, declaring the machines to be "God's agents." These bird-shaped sky planes, they claimed, would search the earth for those in need, carrying them to safety. When the eagles ascended into the skies, it became clear that their true purpose was far more sinister. Altered by dark science, the eagles were repurposed as instruments of surveillance, their bodies twisted into tools for monitoring the population. With eerie precision, they tracked the movements and digital traces of anyone the Overcasts deemed a threat, their once mission corrupted by the thirst for control. What was once a beacon of hope had become a symbol of oppression, a constant reminder that safety and freedom could no longer coexist. And in the shadow of their wings, fear spread like the wildfire, leaving no place to hide.

...

Perched atop Lena's block of flats, an electric eagle let out a piercing shriek that echoed through the darkening sky. The bird's blue eyes glowed faintly, scanning the shadowed corners of Burgess Park and the empty streets beyond, as if the ground held secrets. As day slipped into night, the eagle had traced the movements of those who had answered the call to Spillship 10. With just hours to go, three remained unaccounted for. Inside the flat, Lena, Jeero, and Mim huddled together, their bodies tense and trembling. Each thud from above seemed to rattle their bones, the sound vibrating through the walls and floors as if the building itself was on the verge of collapse. The ceiling overhead began to crack, fine lines spiderwebbing across the plaster as it groaned under the strain. Dust and tiny fragments of debris drifted down like a warning of the weight pressing down from above. The eagle's robotic legs were planted firmly on the rooftop, each movement calculated and deliberate. Its wings, outstretched like a malevolent guardian, spanned wider than the building, their edges slicing through the wind with a whispering menace. The brassy bronze of its body was pitted and rough, marked by years of exposure to the elements. Blacked-out windows lined the top of its head like a crown, shielding the bird's inner workings from view. Its piercing blue eyes commanded attention. Cold and unyielding, they scanned the room below.