A Small Gray Dot

My chest tightened and the images walked through my mind.

My bride, the love of my life, three days before our wedding lying on our bed, her beautiful brown eyes staring into eternity before I closed them and bundled her shattered body into a homemade shroud. I knew.

My mother, scattered on the hard tiles of the kitchen floor, her warm and loving heart stilled forever, placing her severed body into a shroud. I knew.

Fighting flies as I ripped the pieces of my kind and generous father from the sun-cooked deck to put them into a makeshift shroud. I knew.

Digging their graves.

Burying them.

Finding my eighteen-year-old cousin in a morgue.

My sister on a plane that fell from the sky.

I knew.

Five billion people that no longer existed.

All the shit of the last seven and a half years.

Oh, God, how I knew what she was feeling.

And now they intended to finish the job.

We had to find a way to stop them.

Chapter Thirty

“TENNESSEE? MORGAN?”

I looked up. Dr. Bennett was sitting there watching us with a stunned expression. He hadn’t suspected at all. He pulled out a handkerchief, removed his glasses, and wiped at his eyes. I guess he had his own dark memories of that day.

“Sir?” My throat was tight and my voice came out low and rusty.

Morgan’s shoulders stopped shaking as her sobs died away. She lifted her head to peer up at the doctor with reddened eyes.

His throat clicked audibly as he swallowed. He got up. “Come, I think you both could use a drink. I know I could.”

I could, and Morgan nodded. We followed him down the hall where he took us past an elaborate dining room, and into a large kitchen where Morgan and I settled on leather barstools at a center counter made of dark stone. He reached under the counter and came up with glasses. He placed three on top. Then he went to a door at the side and came back with a never opened bottle of Chevis Regal, the twenty-five-year old blend, a scotch that was expensive even before the Event.

“Do you want a chaser? I have juices and sodas…”

“No, sir. This is fine,” I said reaching for a glass.

Morgan grabbed a glass and held it up. “Just the whiskey, Doctor.”

We sat in silence as we drank. Dr. Bennett broke it with a sigh.

“This adds a different aspect, Tennessee. The Binqua not only planned to take advantage of the Event but made their preparations far in advance.” He sat silent for another moment, then said, “I should tell you that I’ve also learned how they’ve managed to have so much merchandise on hand.”

I frowned. “What do you mean? When I saw their buildings, I knew they couldn’t be manufacturing all the goods they distribute but I assumed they have a lot of suppliers.”

“I thought that was the case, also, before I hired on with them. Afterward, I discovered they do have a few suppliers, but then, I began to notice how much more merchandise seemed to go out than come in. I couldn’t fathom how that could be until last week. In going through Henderson’s files, I saw a different machine of which they have a number in the backs of all the warehouses. Most of the items the Binqua sell come from those devices. They are replicators.”

Morgan stared. “What do you mean “replicators”?

Again, I was hearing something incredible but I thought I knew. “Remember those old science fiction series and movies before the Event?” At her nod I continued. “Do you recall the ones with plots about technology that instantly created food or drinks or other items?” I saw it dawn on her. I nodded. “Yes. It’s like that.” I looked at the doctor. “Right?”

He smiled. “Yes, it is. Only, for the Binqua that technology is fact. I don’t presume to know how it works but it does, and they turn out many goods with it. I believe that over the years they captured images from our television broadcasts and programmed the replicators to produce the actual items. They could likely reproduce anything they want – except water. They don’t seem to be able to make that. It’s probably why they’ve bought so much of ours. A certain amount comes in by way of supply trunks but I think they have somehow tapped into a supply somewhere and are also stealing it. Perhaps it is another way they’re using the anomaly. On the other hand they reproduce fossil fuels and glut the market.

“I have learned that they created an underground pipeline from their premises. They have a replicator that constantly pushes it out and through this pipe, though how they got it underground without anyone noticing is a mystery. It goes to that refinery and storage facility out on the west side and tanker trucks load up and take it all over.”

I looked at the very good scotch whiskey we were drinking. It tasted like the real thing. “Did this come from them?”

He smiled again. “No, it didn’t. I have a stock from before the Event and this came from that. Still, the items they reproduce can’t be told from the originals.” He leaned forward peering keenly at us.