KRAKEN

Lowering his rifle, Jonathan stepped hesitantly onto the dimly lit elevator. The cab sagged and groaned with his weight, as the smell of rust filled his nostrils. With a pull of the lever on the back wall, the elevator lurched, and began its long descent into the bowels of the seemingly ancient facility. Never in his life had he seen this much Old World technology in one place, but it felt… familiar. It was just as his father had described to him, in his many stories of the Old World, before bombs fell.

As the steel carriage sank deeper, a plethora of thoughts crossed Jonathan's mind. First, questions he'd not considered for months - “Was it worth it?”, “Is this right?”, “Do I have the right to do this?” - danced fleetingly in his mind, before being dismissed, for he no longer cared to know the answers. Next, memories of his journey thus far – the endless expanses he'd traversed, the innumerable people he'd watched die, and the dozens whose lives he'd taken himself. Finally, as his descent came to an end, and the doors of the elevator whined and hesitated as they opened, he thought of his home. He thought of his mother, tending to her garden in the warm morning sun. He thought of his father, preparing for the day's work in the market. He thought of the girl who worked in the bakery down the street from their shop. He thought of the flames, and the cacophony of screams and gunfire that had brought that life to an end. He reached down into his shirt, and grasped the heart-shaped locket his mother had given him when he was a child, pulling it from its resting place near his own heart. It was old and discolored; no longer a brilliant, shining gold, but instead a dull, nearly brown color. The exterior didn’t matter to Jonathan, however. With a click, the locket opened, exposing what was most important; the time-faded photograph of his parents locked inside.

Almost to the day, six years had passed since he left his ruined home, a rifle in his hands, and a feeling landing somewhere between determination and rage in his heart. While his rifle remained his constant and faithful companion, that feeling had all but disappeared, being replaced by something like melancholic purpose. Now, finally, he had reached his goal.

The elevator groaned once again, this time in reaction to being relieved of Jonathan's weight, as he snapped shut his locket, and stepped into what he was told was the “control room”, rifle at the ready. The room was massive and dimly lit, filled with rows upon rows of what he recalled to be “computers”, their screens likely having been dark for decades. On the back wall was an enormous screen, larger than any single object Jonathan had seen before, and in the center of the room was a pedestal, with several switches and buttons on the board at the top. One such button was lit with a dull yellow light, like the eyes of a wildcat in the dark, and was flanked by a pair of key holes. He recognized this as the “control panel”, as the old man referred to it. Jonathan approached the pedestal, his footsteps echoing off the distant walls, reverberating upwards into the darkness towards an unknowable ceiling. While no mere description of this facility could have prepared him for the reality of its monumental size and complexity, the instructions he had been given were nonetheless accurate and fruitful. Slinging his rifle, he pressed the illuminated button, and the screen on the wall blinked to life, with text appearing in the center.

SYSTEM STARTING...

…

This was it.

ESTABLISHING CONNECTIONS...

…

…

Jonathan had finally reached his goal.

UNABLE TO ESTABLISH CONNECTIONS TO ALL FACILITIES...

…

…

He had everything he needed.

CONNECTIONS ESTABLISHED TO 68/100 FACILITIES...

…

…

Will sixty-eight be enough? He thought. We'll find out.

KRAKEN SYSTEM ONLINE...

…

…

AWAITING IDENTIFICATION

With a shaking hand, Jonathan reached into his satchel, and retrieved a folded sheet of paper. He cleared his throat, and for the first time in months, spoke aloud, just as he was instructed.

“Alp-”

The word caught in his throat.

IDENTIFICATION INVALID...

…

…

AWAITING IDENTIFICATION

After six years of searching, acquiring, learning, killing, now that he had reached his goal, he was hesitating. Jonathan clenched his fist around his mother’s locket. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly.

“Alpha-niner-two-seven-six-seven-seven-niner-eight-one-two-seven.”

He paused, letting go of the locket, then spoke again.

“Omega-six-six-eight-niner-five-four-five-two-three-zero-two.”

IDENTIFICATION SUCCESSFUL...

…

…

DETONATION SEQUENCE PRIMED

With a steadier hand, he retrieved the two keys he had spent most of his six year journey tracking down from his bag, and inserted them into their slots on the board. A countdown appeared on the screen.

3...

2...

1...

UNLOCK

He turned the keys.

DETONATION SEQUENCE INITIATED

The dim lighting in the room turned from a soft white, to a deep red.

GOD FORGIVE US

As the world itself crumbled around him, another memory of his mother came to mind. A memory of a day he had been separated from her in the market. He recalled the indescribable feeling of dread that washed over him, when he realized he was lost. But then, he recalled the even deeper feeling of warmth, and love, when his mother found him, and wrapped him in her arms.

“Hush, Jonny, it's okay. It's all over. You're safe now. It's time to go home.”