By Justin Duggan
NOTE: This short story contains themes and imagery that may disturb those who were effected by the attacks on 9/11. Please read with caution.
A cold, gray slab of granite dripping with falling rain was all that marked the spot. People of all ethnicities, shapes, sizes and ages surrounded it; some covered in rain gear, some soaking wet. All faces gazed silently at the stone, and even the children were quiet. Somehow, the starkness of the barren plain told its own story; crying out to the very depths of each soul with a silent plea to be heard…to be remembered….
Never again.
These lonely words were carved on the stone in every known language; including some ancient, unused ones: Hieroglyphics; Babylonian; Sumerian and even in several computer languages. People took turns walking past the stone and tracing their fingers through the grooved letters. It was impossible to tell, this day, the raindrops from the teardrops.
Looking down at the stone from this proximity, the eye followed the natural course of the flat monument as it blended into the stone all around. It was then, that the true magnitude of the memorial became apparent… The carved stone floor revealed name after name in concentric circles carved in such a way as to be read from the granite centerpiece. Each name in the first circle was followed by two dates, the usual birth and death dates found on any headstone, with one exception, all the death days matched…December 31, 2099. The small writing on the edge of the first circle was the repetition of a time…23:59:59.
It was the same with the following circles; seconds after seconds, after minutes, then hours and days, even years as the death toll continued to climb from this; the last nuclear tragedy to occur on the Planet. There were 1,813,259 names on this slab. Most died within the first five seconds of the blast, which occurred over this very spot as Miami was leveled during the party to celebrate the coming of the twenty-second century.
After a few moments of silence, the tour guide continued, “Terrorists bent on protecting the world from US domination of the Energy Market smuggled a nuclear warhead into the Old United States up the intra-coastal waterways that meander through what used to be known as Everglades National Park. The bomb was detonated on a timer that went off just before midnight on December 31, 2099. Today is the twenty-fourth anniversary of that event, and the opening of this monument brings long-awaited closure to the families of the victims. Until recently, the ground you’re standing on was considered too hazardous for public use; but due to the anti-radiation treatments administered to this whole area, it has become safe for everyone.
“If you’ll turn your attention to the columns surrounding the Circle of Memories; you’ll notice that they contain details of the incident…from the discovery of Crystalline Energy; to its widespread use; to the history of the tragedy; and finally to the discovery of Megalith Geode under what is now Crystal City.
“Take all the time you need to absorb the monument. I’ll be available for any questions you may have. Thank you for your attention.”
There was a small round of polite applause following the tour guide’s narration. Then, I walked up to the first column. It had an interactive interface, so I pulled out my VR headset and jacked into the adult version of the story. The display before my eyes quickly lit up, and I was surrounded by Miami nightlife. There was a massive party on Miami Beach, mostly college kids, but also many people of other ages. People were eating and drinking, laughing, dancing and holding each other as they watched the large hologram clock hovering over the calm, black, midnight waters. I shivered as I watched the clock count down towards the New Year. I knew what was coming, but I couldn’t warn anyone, and I knew even as I saw the clock stop at 00:00:01, that even if I could have warned them, it wouldn’t have done any good. Had they known, they’d have been miserable in that last instant of life. Better they should experience happiness than terror.
The next scene passed in slow motion, as the display showed what happened in an understandable sequence. I was there as the bomb detonated… watching as the trigger fired a plutonium slug to complete the critical mass. I saw the implosion and then the waves of energy as they blew apart the warhead casing. The fragments of exploding canister vaporized before my eyes. I could see the effects of superheat on the surrounding swamp. Millions of gallons of water dried in an instant, and the plants, rather than shriveling, turned directly to ash. Swamp life blew away with the scorching wind, and for a moment, I thought I could feel it.
Just as I was enveloped in the blinding flash of energy unchecked I was in another place, farther away. It must have been over 20 miles away and airborne, since I could see both the growing explosion and the Miami Beach strip. A wave of hot air turned plasma grew slowly outward, vaporizing everything in its path. I was thankful for my position, because I was unable to see individuals overtaken by the mighty wake.
Suddenly, I was back at Miami Beach. The clock was now blinking at 12:00:00. Less than one second had passed. A shockwave passed through my body, and I saw puzzled looks on people’s faces as the clock shut down and the music stopped. Lights went out. The only thing illumination on the beach came from stars and the waning moon. In the time it took for my eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, a new sun rose in the west. I wanted to shout out for people to drop...for them to go into the water… anything to stop what I knew was coming. People were holding their eyes, for the explosion was much brighter for them than it was for me.
Then the shockwave I’d seen from the air hit the beach, along with all the debris from an airborne Miami: Cars; Buses; Chunks of buildings and freeways. All this struck the crowd on the sand. People tried to dodge; some held each other in fear; mothers covered their children with their own bodies, but nothing stopped the onslaught. By the time the wind died down, the beach was empty. Everything had been swept out to sea and all that remained of that once-famous vacation spot was a sea of glass, courtesy of the superheated gale. Tears poured down my face, and I moved to pull the VR plug when I lurched forward in time and space to a Military Controlled Mobile Hospital. There were people of all ages lying around on a field of cots covering possibly a square mile with doctors, nurses and volunteers walking up and down the rows. A low sound grated against my soul, as I stood there helpless. It was a long time before I willed myself to breathe; and even longer before I identified the sound… horror… panic… pain… loss… disbelief… all mixed together in a constant wailing that defied description.
Another move in space, and my toes hung over a half-full mass grave. Stinking bodies, burned beyond recognition by radiation had been tossed together and torched in an effort to simply stem the tide of disease. Earthmovers buried the corpses in front of me, and I turned to see mounds of similar resting places that seemed to stretch to the horizon.
Again, moving forward, possibly years this time, I stood in the viewing window of a hospital nursery. I fought a rising gorge as I witnessed the continuing aftermath of Absolute Zero. The children were all obviously underweight, but that was the least of their problems. It seemed they all had some form of birth defect, from eyeless faces, to the lack of one or more limbs, to even having a soft skeleton (or maybe it was no skeleton at all). The nurses held, fed and cared for the infants, but the sadness on their faces showed each babies prognosis…several coded while I watched, and were not resuscitated.
Thankful for the next surge forward, but afraid of what I might see, I found myself high above the Earth. Looking down, I could see the continents, but not as I’d seen before. The continents on the dayside looked strangely barren, and on the night side, it was worse. Where there should have been oceans of light there were only a few scattered flickers.
Darkness enveloped me. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what had happened, but then I realized that the lesson was over. I unplugged myself from the column and slowly removed my VR goggles. It was still raining, and I could feel the cold of wet clothes sagging against my skin. Turning slowly away from the column, I started the long walk out of the park…certain that I’d had enough history for one day.
I can still hear the voice echoed by the pillars marking the edges of the monument, “In concluding my statement, I urge you to vote ‘Yes’ to join the new Earth Council so that we may benefit from the stability of unity in this time of profiles and rogue technology in order to keep this type of tragedy from happening again. May it be the last Ground Zero, the true Absolute Zero. Thank you, and God Bless.”