Dieselpunk Opera

DIESELPUNK OPERA

by

Jared H. Mehraban

LAST LOG SALVAGED FROM ANCIENT EARTH RELIC. TRANSLATED DATA BY FEMALE HUMAN A.I. CONTAINED IN THE RELIC:

Towards the sunset rides the gunmetal gray Maximus Optera; the ultimate embodiment of 80’s muscle power now doorless and decked out with wheel blades like a gladiators high octane chariot, flames belching out its rear exhaust as it roars down the highway through an obstacle course of long-abandoned vehicle husks and skeletal remains, running on fumes while expertly steered with purpose and precision by the war chief who goes by the name Danzig.

Both Danzig and his Optera bleed all over the blast scorched stretch of highway, their lives simultaneously draining past every mile marker... Danzig's gray beard is wild and stained with dried coughed up blood, yet the grease in his spiked-up hair still holds together.

‘Not everything falls apart’ he says to his reflection in the rearview mirror, and then he notices the other image in it: A monster truck behind us full of inbred cannibal mutants still in hot pursuit, its massive tires bouncing over every piece of debris he had to expertly navigate earlier and they were catching up.

He clutches a heart-shaped locket around his neck. Me.

The locket was now an ancient relic from the old world, haunted by a ‘ghost’ as he calls me and I had a simple request: Get me to the metal caverns below the Shington Pentacle (Washington Pentagon), and he would be rewarded with many wonders and magics from the old world, as well as a ship to the stars to help protect and preserve our species from the extra dimensional alien horrors of the rifts, the rifts that have ripped open all over the world long ago and have been slowly warping/transforming it ever since.

‘Ghost!’ Shouts Danzig. ‘Ghost, I need your skyfire again!’ (He’s talking about the orbital defense satellites I have access to)

‘Only one charge left, War Chief. Are you certain?’ I ask, the incorporeal echo of a female voice that vibrates from this heart-shaped locket.

‘Very certain! I’m gushin’ crimson inside and out, and my steel is dry of diesel.’

The inbred brood in the monster-sized truck cackle and whistle and lick their lips, nets ready as they hang out the windows and rear flatbed as they close in on Danzig.

‘We cook the warrior meat alive!’ shouts the disfigured and misshapen cyclops driver as he slams the truck's gas pedal to the floor. They were going to be right on top of him any second.

‘Compositing geographical data’ says the Ghost.

‘I don’t speak techie talk!’ shouts Danzig.

‘There is a vehicle on fast approach behind you-’ says the Ghost.

‘Make it go Boom!’ Danzig shouts over me.

BOOOOOM! A Fire blossom instantly sprays out metal shards, and flesh in every direction behind the slowing Optera and paints the back half of the car in mutant entrails.

Danzig steers the dying car to the side of the road and limps out quickly to light a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth from a nearby piece of burning debris.

‘I’m going to call you Skyfire from now on, Ghost.’ I can hear him smile. Danzig breathes in smoke from his newly lit cigarette and coughs out blood. He walks over to the trunk of the Optera and cleans off the chunks of flesh all over it before opening and grabbing a duffel bag from inside.

‘We are twenty minutes away from our destination.’ I inform him. Danzig digs through the bag for medical tape and stitches.

‘I need to patch up first.’ Danzig states as he pulls an old bottle out from the bag. He opens it, chugs half of it, takes off his shirt and pours the rest of it on what looks like a bullet wound that passed through his back and out his belly. He screams in pain and falls to his knees. He saddles up against the Opteras front tire as he pulls out all the medical supplies as well as another bottle.

‘Tell me again, Ghost.’ asks Danzig as he takes another long swig from the bottle, and another drag from his cigarette. He fumbles pulling out a sewing kit that pops open, scattering its contents all over the ground.

Danzig shrugs and takes his time taking another long drag of his cigarette.

‘Tell you again, what- war Chief?’ I ask

‘The story of what happens when I reunite you with your long lost love in the metal caverns, and how you are going to give me the woman I desire… and how our people will leave this place for the stars and start anew’. Danzig takes another drink. He might have taken too many to properly close his wound I worry.

‘From the very beginning… with the pretty music’ smiles Danzig as he places his hand on his wound to stop the bleeding.

Violin's preface strings to the slow start of an orchestral ensemble slowly rising as Danzig looks up at the dark purple clouds and pink sky. He closes his eyes and smiles as I play the music for him.

I tell him the story as I did once before when he found me while scavenging a slaughtered trade caravan.

The story began with the end of humanity. A story told before and warned about time and time again, yet nobody could do anything to stop it. Humans had built great machines and turned them on without knowing their true power.

From what Danzig could understand, doorways were blindly opened to places humanity had no understanding of. We still don’t.

Ancient unknowable things seeped into man’s domain and the world of flesh was just as alien to them as their indescribable logic, existence and ways of thought were alien to us.

What could only be described as Chaos followed shortly after, and with the dimensional gateways opened, unexpected side effects began to warp the very nature of this planet, twisting anything and everything around the gateways and spreading slowly. Very few humans had a contingency for this and so great bombs were dropped on the gateways in hopes of closing them, but it further escalated the situation and killed half the planet.

The Machines, or ‘Golem’s’ (according to Danzig) that were designed to do mankind’s bidding weren’t built fast enough, but the thinking machines… the artificial intelligence’s were almost complete but still fragmented for fear of their true power when fully developed, so various Human Factions had kept pieces of the complete artificial machine program separated until select individuals could have their minds mapped and stored in devices to be put into the grand program of the great thinking machine later, as a safeguard. We didn’t want the machine destroying humanity.

I wasn’t one of these select individuals designed for the great program I told him, I was instead the mind of a loved one who helped create this technology, created in the hopes of being reunited with them if the world fell.

‘Love might be the missing concept to turn on the great machine, War Chief. Reuniting me with the database under the pentagon, in the underground city with the surviving descendants frozen underground might be humanity’s last chance. The signal is getting stronger. I can detect it nearby. I’ll just need to be physically inserted into the vaults. We’ll have everything you and your tribe will need and we can leave this planet for the stars…’

I stop the music and can only hear the wind blow. I scan my location from another defense satellite in space, the only other signals I can merge with. I’m being held by the skeletal remains of what was once the War Chief Danzig.

Time had almost become an abstract concept for me at this point. How long would the heart-shaped locket last until it rusts and falls apart?

How long until my battery dies and I lose sentience? What are the odds that another human that can understand me will come along in time to get me to where I need to be? Did the ship already leave? Do I continue recording my story? Nothing is happening...

THE HUMAN A.I. CONTINUES TO SCAN FROM THE SATELLITE, LOOKING FOR ANOTHER NEARBY HUMAN TO ALERT THEM TO ITS PRESENCE.

IT IS EXACTLY 4,197,500 EARTH DAYS SINCE THE RELIC’S LAST ENTRY.