The Cause Unknown

So a cyber monkey walks into a bar…

Behold a prophet, sitting on a chair made out of wood from a tree long extinct. Next to him sit two rather questionable and frankly shady individuals of unknown sex and origin. One of them does seem to be even breathing. At the unreasonably long end of their table, the area commonly reserved for the “ I am here by myself” type of people, sat a very unremarkable man. His face was average at best, no memorable facial features or clothing. In fact, the cocktail before him had more character than he ever did. The man’s attention was entirely absorbed by screen on his hand. In the low hum of the room’s lighting and the inaudible noise of irrelevant conversations in the background, the man seemed like a existence was turning on a boring channel.

With such low interest, its hard to say this man even existed in the first place. He got by on this sensation of avoidance and never being part of life. Life, however, finds a way to meddle in the affairs of even most remote hermits. The disaster was the messenger.

It started as a problem with a signal, which in that day and age was nearly a catastrophic even onto itself. The precious screen on the man’s hand began to glow in alarms, before quitting all together. The reality struck and Exonet was unavailable. Having very little time to overcome the shock of suddenly witnessing the color of the cocktail, the man was struck with the next misfortune. Following the disappearance of the signal, the electricity began to fail around as well. That was enough to even wake up one of the individuals behind the bar table. You know, the one that wasn't breathing.

The dread revealed itself soon enough. When the initial scare of the sudden blackout passed itself into the nearest drain, a more ominous sound ruptured from the walls of the establishment. Nearly instantaneously the walls warped and the ground shifted . It was at this moment that the man noticed it was impossible to breathe — the air left his lungs without permission. The scope of his universe began shrink as his brain lost access to oxygen. It was a rapidly darkening tunnel and from this tunnel cam a great roar that swept him of his feet into the nearby table. Anything that could shatter did so. Dumbfounded, man saw the last light leave before he could no longer maintain his consciousness.

He did not feel time pass. It could have been ages as far as his perception was concerned, but he eventually came partially back online. The mundane scene that populated the bar was whipped out of reality and rudely substituted by carnage and destruction.

The limbs felt unresponsive. Breathing was superficial. Even the eyelids fought for closure. He heard whaling and lamentation, occasional sparks of high voltage projectors and crunching of the crushed glass. he made no sound himself, but the inner scream of agony. This carnival of of uninvited suffering was broken but the incoming voices from above. “Above” was relative. What must have surely felt as ground for the man was in fact part of a collapsed wall he was firmly part of. The voices increased in loudness and frequency of exchange, before long they were there.

What initially felt as a relief for a man who had no direct sensation of the world around him other than his eyes, soon changed to cautionary suspense. The dimly lit shades made their way into the ruble of a bar, drawing towards the voices calling for help. In the dust and aura of searchlights, they seemed like emergency response teams, but up-close they resembled nothing remotely civil. Sporting imposing armor suits, various arrangement of search lights and nearly breathing helmets, these quite nimble shades carried substantial weaponry for an emergency crew. While the entirety of the conversation was unacceptable to already struggling man in the wall, he did overhear enough to see the developing situation in the ghastly light.

Their call-sign was Haplor. They were instructed to evaluate the situation and act accordingly. Shortly after this command was transferred to every member of this Haplor, or simply H, division, the once whaling voices began to disappear one after another. Eventually this growing silence approached along with two members of the division to the place the man could be found. Near him lay the two people he perceptually ignored earlier. Only one of them was showing signs of life. Upon request for help, one of the shades approached and kneeled. Only muffled sounds followed, as if great struggle arose, only to be drowned in dust.

Terror was no inevitable, but no bodily response followed in the man. It was his time, and the shades were upon him.

“Will there be any survivors?” — asked one of the shades to the one who was again about to kneel.

The shade, slowly descending like an angel of death, had various gadgetry decorating its solid body. One of the arms had a unique noise, as the shade reached for the ruble, removing it with striking ease. It was apparent it was state of the art bionic implant. Palpating for the signs of life in a man who was already early the limits of life’s definition, the shade found no reward.

“No survivors”- a cold claim from a ghoulish mask. “Get the cleaners here. Bag the remains, take bio samples. Dispose of remains offsite. Dead men tell no tales and neither will their unidentifiable remains.”

A string of body bags was quickly rushed into the building, followed by a second score of shades. Unarmed, but equally terrifying, the shades quickly packaged the now mute corpses, with only the man still hanging to lucidity. It soon changed, as his own body was neatly placed in a cover, and the light once again left. The dreamless sleep has come to pass, as the man was carried out of the wrenched guts of once entertaining bar.

The entire block suffered the same fate. As the packaged bodies left in unspecified direction, people from nearby streets filled he outskirts to gaze at the smoldering remains of the buildings. Drones have filled the sky, searchlights now illuminated disaster zone. The real emergency response teams descended upon this carnage shortly after. Towards the end of the block, glowing and and rumbling , an occasional flaming ball popped into the atmosphere, sounding more like a sarcastic slow clap. This area received the most attention, as a self sealing minibots flooded the area to cover the break in the gas pipe. With more emergency crews arriving , along with civil defense forces, the block now resembled some merry setting than a disaster zone. With low casualties, and relatively contained destruction, the public soon began to loose interest n the even that transpired, disregarding them as an unfortunate accident. Before long, they were sucked back into their digital lives, blissfully unaware of the shades in armor, and the voices they forever silenced.