Harmonics: Rise of the Magician - Young-Adult Dystopian Science Fiction Prologue

HARMONICS - Season 1

Rise of the Magician

 by Collin Earl & Chris Snelgrove

Desert Warfare

Time: Five years ago

Scene: Unmarked Desert Base

                  "'Gone'? What do you mean 'gone'?"

                  Two nondescript Lab Coats stood in front of a Suit wearing expensive black glasses. This Suit was the sort of man who answered to no one about no thing. He looked very angry.

                  "Just what I said. Both projects are gone.  It's as if neither ever existed," the Lab Coat's voice lamented. "So many years of research. And just after we get the Alpha 1 prototype up and running and Beta 1 finally showed signs of the phenomena, this happens. Up in smoke. Both projects gone, just like that."

                  "Control yourself, doctor.  I'm not interested in your emotional turmoil. What I'm not understanding is, how does a multi-part research project worth billions just disappear from one of the most secure facilities in the world?"

                  "We're not really sure. I checked the weapon last --"

                  The Suit stepped forward and struck the Lab Coat in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.

                  "We don't use that word around here, Doctor. This isn't that sort of facility. I assumed you were aware of that."

                  The doctor spat blood as tears ran down his face. "I apologize, sir. What I meant was that I checked the data feed from the project just last night and everything seemed to be in order."

                  The Suit sneered. "This is getting us nowhere. Get me security; let's see what they have to say about all of this."

                  "Security is dead, sir." The doctor fidgeted, still on the floor. "That's why we called you. Everyone else is dead."

                  The Suit flinched. "They're dead? All of them? I handpicked those men myself from the United Delta Force. There is no way that all of them are dead. Not unless they were up against a small army."

                  The second doctor reached into his pocket and held a shaking hand out to the Suit. "No army, sir. We didn't even hear anything. I think you need to see this."

                  The Suit removed his sunglasses and took a small security drive from the doctor's hand. He gave the Lab Coat a withering look, then walked over to a large display screen, touched a number of on-screen commands, and system began interfacing with the drive.  A security reel started to show a slideshow that none of them would soon forget.

                  The Suit's eyes widened. "Oh my--"

                  Death scenes, one after another, flipped across the screen as if the display were nothing more than a family picture album. The Suit examined the time stamp of each still image. The images were taken less than an hour ago. "This...this is impossible."

The scenes depicted stalagmite-like protrusions jutting from random places in the room, most running cleanly through bloody, fatigue-wearing men. The next slide loaded.  More images of what the Suit could only assume were the security force, completely wasted. Several lightweight Series 7 Vector machine guns were strewn across the floor in each image, but the guns were the only things easily distinguishable; the rest was a charred, smoking mess. The scene flipped again. Yet more destruction; doors torn off hinges, terminals and other equipment destroyed, and many more dead in gruesome and deliberate ways.

                  The Suit spoke, his voice very quiet. "You're telling me that the entire research facility's security force is dead and no one saw anything? What about the rest of the staff? The scientists in charge of the project?  Are they dead as well?"

                  The Lab Coat shook his head. "I have no idea, and I don't intend to find out. We are leaving right now --"

                  "Who gave you permission to leave? We still have work to do, Doctor, like figuring out what happened to the projects. Luckily all the research should be backed up to the remote data drives. So really we just need to contain this incident."

                  "Sir," the second Lab Coat interrupted, "I don't think you get it. There is no containing this incident."

                  The Lab Coat pointed as the last of the reel loaded. The three men stared up at the screen. The Lab Coat's face beaded up with sweat, fear shining through as the Suit's face darkened.

                  The screen depicted a cave of a room. Large servers, huge fans, and suspended steel-framed walkways connected a variety of different exits and stairways sprouting off in all directions.  Easily recognizable, this room was situated deep underground. It was the brain of the entire desert facility. The room was designed to withstand anything a military could throw at it, from Bunker-Buster bombs to nuclear warheads. It was ironic really. The company had designed this place to be impenetrable from the outside, but no one could anticipate every threat.

                  "What the hell...?" The Suit's words faded away. He barely comprehended what he saw. In the middle of the picture, resting directly between two of the largest cloud-frames, sat a huge multi-layered crate. Affixed to the crate was a banner with two words on it.

"Good-Bye?" The first Lab Coat's eyes squinted at the chicken scratch painted in huge red letters. 

The Suit started swearing. He turned and opened a comm channel. "MESA One this is Outpost Whiskey. We have a security breach. The Farm is compromised. We need full tactical support.  Send in Containment and S&D teams, priority one!"

The Lab Coats stumbled over their words. "Sir, do you really think both Containment and S&D are needed? The threat seems to be gone; all the departments are sealed."

"Fools," said the Suit, walking over to a weapons cache, unlocking it and pulling out a Tiger 35 Assault Rifle. The Suit loaded a clip and slid the action back.  "Look at the bottom of the picture. Do you know what that crate is?"

The Lab Coats looked again at the final picture of the morbid slideshow. The crate was mostly covered by the banner, but there at the bottom two more letters could be made out. Two more characters that read clearly,

"X9," mouthed one of the Lab Coats. "That crate is a palette of thermobaric explosives? Oh Lord. How could they have--no this isn't happening!"

"That isn't the half of it," whispered the other Lab Coat, still staring at the image.  "Is that a clock?"

All three of the men stepped closer to the massive screen. The Suit touched the screen zooming in on the corner of the image. The second Lab Coat was correct. There was a small clock and its numbers were moving.

The three men stared, reaching out as if to touch the clock through the screen. They watched the numbers count down. 10, 9, 8, 7...

"Isn't this a compilation of security feed stills?" questioned the Suit. "How--how are the numbers moving?"

                  The question went unanswered as the countdown hit zero.