Glancing behind me, I idly wonder if the ruins of the skybridge port will provide enough shelter. I’m not worried about unexpected visitors… not anymore. A few hours back, I stopped long enough to check my progress and weather patterns say it’s going to rain tonight.
DataLog Text-LiveJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 22-10-24
A few hours into nightfall and I still can’t sleep. Two walls and a solid roof give me enough protection to light a small fire. Staring at it, willing myself to be tired, I think perhaps I should use to time to run a backup on my log. It’s been a few days, and I don’t want to lose anything from laziness.
I managed to get my hands on one of the last innovative cog-jacks created before everything fell apart. Not much different in appearance from a regular earpiece, it translates my direct cognitive thoughts into text. An eJournal via force of will. Convenient. Tapping at the Servant, I start to run a deep-saturation backup, and my cog-jack speeds across all of it.
I’ve encrypted the file to always contain the same opening. Always.
DataLog Text-CompJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 22-10-24
My name is Sienna Doyle. At the time of this recording, I’m twenty-six years old and was formerly a survivor at encampment Sigma-8. This is outside what used to be called “Columbus, Ohio,” but those distinctions don’t matter anymore. I know the year is 2224, but I can’t be totally sure of the month. DataLog says October. Those distinctions don’t matter anymore, either. This is being translated directly onto my Servant from my cog-jack, so the DeUhFA, or T-Net, won’t be necessary to read it.
After ChinaTec and their data axis with Ottoman-Soft were obliterated in 2140 during WWIII, the NorthAm Alliance and their EU allies decided to profit and prosper. Ultra-high frequencies had never been viable before due to various particle types in the atmosphere, so transmissions could never move from point A to B. Due to a number of breakthroughs, however, it was discovered that the environment that prevented data transfer could actually be used to house it instead. After the brutal, three-year luke-warm war over information that ended with a massive EMP blast over Hong Kong, this seemed a miracle. Free, ever-present data was all around us, accessible through Tower routers and appearing on our Servants.
Fast-forward. The exploration of varied frequencies and energy signatures has become big business. It was long known that humans’ bioelectricity could power a twenty-five watt bulb, and “Galvanic Sciences” were on the forefront of these new innovations. Named after some eighteenth century Italian physicist, this field of study dealt with ion manipulation or something related. I’m not entirely sure. Regardless, just like our DNA sequence it was studied and eventually mastered. By 2182, there were myriad pioneers in human bioelectrical manipulation. Ten years later, it was commonplace, and by 2208 the world was united in our ability to control our own bioelectrical energy.
This peace lasted about a year.
While a person could self-diagnose to heal minor injuries and most illnesses, this caused a drain on the individual’s bioelectricity. People were using various other types of energy as supplements, while some were starting to show signs of acute dysmorphic bioelectrical energy. The “Leecher” phenomena began to reach epidemic proportions. Once a person tapped any external energy source for any reason to augment their own, it became an addiction as well as detrimental to their own prolonged health. Unfortunately, this didn’t stop many people. Leeching resulted in a euphoric high, along with prolonged stamina and longer life. Unfortunately, it only took one act of leeching to become addicted. The side effects were horrendous, the result eminent.
The world health and science communities were just starting to get a handle on the Leecher epidemic when it happened. All over the globe, reports began to come in of people who had succumbed to a catastrophic bioelectrical meltdown. Instead of dying, however, the victims took on entropic qualities. Near mindless, they operated on an almost primitive level seeking out any type of energy supplement, walking black holes. Creatures reminiscent of old Zombie fiction, they devoured everything containing a spark in their path and proved near impossible to destroy. The “Feeders” were here. Worse still, since a single act of leeching caused addiction, be it once or one hundred times, leeching would invariably lead the person down the path to becoming a Feeder.
If the world was still reeling from Leechers, the resulting Feeder epidemic proved a global disaster. Unlike the old two-dimensional films about the walking dead, a blow to the head didn’t slow Feeders down. Each one had to be annihilated to such an extent that the entropic signature dissipated. Civilization was hanging on by a thread when the final deathblow came.
One out of ten thousand times, a Leecher would not become a Feeder. Through some genetic quirk, instead of bioelectrical collapse, their system rebounded in a new way. Now, along with complete control over their own bioelectricity, they were able to manipulate all the varied fields of energy just as a Feeder would devour them. Taking advantage of the chaos, these self-proclaimed “Mancers” began to set themselves up as both warlords and messiahs. New conflicts erupted among the Mancers, beings of incredible power who realized they could also exact a modicum of control over Feeders.
To put it bluntly, the world ended.
With only the Mancers immune and a dwindling number of Humans left, the Apocalypse had arrived through mankind’s own ingenuity. Even the remaining two billion Humans soon found themselves forced down the path of the Leechers, merely to survive a short while longer from the Feeders. The Mancer Wars broke out and their Feeder armies ravaged continents until only two dozen of them were left and only a half billion Humans and Leechers remained. Although the Mancers had called an uneasy truce, most of the population had been eradicated or turned into Feeders.
I was only eleven years old when Leecher epidemic began. It was shortly after my twenty-second birthday when the Mancer Wars ended. Maybe six months ago, I was forced to become a Leecher. And then, only a few weeks ago… something else.
SIX MONTHS AGO
DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 17-04-24
“Where’s Anton?”
“Anton’s dead!” Gemmel screamed back at her.
“Shit,” muttered Sienna over and over as she reloaded her gun. “Shitshitshit…”
Anton Russell had never been her favorite person, but he didn’t deserve to get torn apart by Feeders. She had heard the emotion in Gemmel’s voice. Anton had been part of his Sigma-8B Quartet since its inception.
Sienna peeked over the wall to see her brother firing wildly into the mass of approaching bodies. The XM8-MOD was loud, messy, and he didn’t seem to notice. Sean was taking the sudden loss of Anton as hard as Gemmel, but he was reacting badly to it. It was going to get them killed.
“Sean, pull back!” Sienna yelled as she attempted to cover him.
Swearing at the top of his lungs, Sean retreated behind the garden wall and reloaded. Ready to pop up again, he paused and began looking around. His swearing grew even louder somehow.