The Insanity of Zero

The world died on July 16th, 1945 in a flash of light at a location about 35-miles southeast of Socorro, New Mexico known as the White Sands Proving Ground.  The device responsible for this destruction was called Trinity and it was an assessment of an implosion-design plutonium weapon.  Ground zero was consumed in an atomic fireball and in a mirror universe a deadly burst of electromagnetic radiation erupted into the White Tower. 

The humans of Avalon had lived in a world ruled by technology.   However, the White Tower was a thing that defied scientific understanding.  It was a piece of the old mysteries, an artifact that some say was left behind by the ancient ones who had taught the Egyptians how to build the pyramids.  Others believed it was the house of god himself.  But whatever the White Tower might be, one thing about it remained irrefutable.  It rose from the sunbaked deserts of New Mexico higher than Mount Everest.  Human memory could not recall a time without it.  No one knew what lay inside it; only that any who attempted to enter had never been heard from again. 

Ten miles wide at the base, the structure sundered a land where nothing grew.  Rain never fell there and birds did not circle in the sky.  The bitter clay that comprised the desert floor remained shattered and cracked for as far as the eye could see.

It was a place of death.

When the electromagnetic pulse disrupted the mysterious glowing cube that lay inside, the cataclysm began.  The White Tower detonated.  A wave traveling at 1000 miles per hour exploded outward to consume every corner of the planet in flame.  Those that didn’t burn became sick from radiation, starvation, and disease; a gaping hole on the side of the tower left it a ruin in the skyline.

I was born into this world.

I am the first failsafe; my name is Z.E.R.O.  The humans that first encountered me addressed me as thus.  It stood for Zion Electronic Ruling Operator.

On day one of my life, I dispatched the glass locusts which I created by the trillions. I forged them with a mere thought.  The crystalline constructs obeyed my every whim.  They were so numerous that when they emerged into the heavens, they eclipsed the sun.

Each one of the locusts was a marvel of engineering and of my exquisitely perfect mind.  The locusts were powered by nanotechnology and neodymium, a rare earth element created within the confines of the White Tower from nuclear fission of Uranium-235.  The neodymium gave the glass locusts a silver glow.

My minions tore down the structures and remnants of the old world and erected magnificent havens for the survivors on spots where the radiation was weakest.  These havens became the walled mega-cities of the future for the 400 million that still lived.  Then, on the twilight of the sixth day, I instructed the humans to move into their new homes.

On the seventh day, I showed myself to them.  I chose a humanoid form, but it still frightened them.  I presented as a man of transparent flesh and blood, with silver eyes and hair.  The bravest of the humans approached me; tried to communicate.  However, I lacked the necessary sapient qualities for me to understand him.  In the end, I had no idea what it was that they needed from me.  Despite all of my power, I could not guarantee their continued existence. 

What was I doing wrong? 

Frustrated, I created a dome above the First City and suspended it within the air.  The floor of the dome was transparent like my skin so that I could gaze down at the humans that lived and worked below me and monitor their welfare.  I sent machines among them to deliver food, water, and medicine.  They took these but still did not trust me.

Then, one day, things changed.

A woman asked to see me.  I instructed my machines to bring her to the dome and I watched her approach with catlike trepidation. I don’t know what I expected.  Perhaps, there was a part of me that believed that this meeting would be just another failure, just as it had been in prior encounters with humans that sought to communicate with me.  Nevertheless, I held out hope.