Von Neumann’s War

“All right, Dr. Horton, what are we forgetting?” he said to himself. He set the manual down and restarted the device — still no luck. Then he noticed the little omnidirectional antenna still in the clear plastic bag sitting on top of the monitor for the analyzer.

“No way, I’m that stupid…” He crawled under the folding table and noticed two coaxial cables lying on the floor. One was about six feet long and coiled up and not connected at either end. The other was the end of the cable that came from the other antenna hidden in the rocks outside on top of the mountain. Neither were connected so there was no antenna connected to the system. He slapped his forehead. “I guess I am.”

Richard plugged the short cable into the back of the analyzer and the other to a two-port switch. He ran the test antenna into one port and the above-ground antenna into the other.

“That should do it.” He pressed the reset button on the menu screen and presto! The computer processors in the room appeared on the screen as spikes around 2.4, 4.3, and 5.1 gigahertz. “Good, now let’s take a look up top, shall we?” He flipped the two-port switch to the B port that was connected to the antenna above ground. The screen filled with radio noise and several peaks across the spectrum.

As he watched the radio noise spectral content, nine peaks that were just above the noise floor began to rise in amplitude. The peaks rose to only about ten percent above the noise floor and they also shifted in frequency from left to right in what appeared to be random order, all of them dancing around about 1.4 gigahertz or so.

“Hunh? What the hell is that?” he muttered and adjusted the gain on the receiver. The peaks rose from the noise floor slightly. “Spread spectrum? Hmm… centered around 1.4 gigahertz… I wonder if that means anything… hmmm.” Richard rubbed his unruly and slightly graying beard thoughtfully. Then he nearly jumped out of his skin when his instant messenger alarm dinged at him.

* * *

RussianChick6300: Come to cabin now!

Megiddo: Why?

RussianChick6300: Alien robots here!

Megiddo: B right there!

RussianChick6300: Hury they r everyw

* * *

They must have cut the Internet connection to the cabin. Richard jumped into action and tripped over himself trying to get out of the computer desk chair he was sitting in. He nearly knocked himself out on the floor, but fortunately he was only dazed by the thwack his forehead made when it hit the decking. Rubbing between his eyes at the red mark forming there, he ran to the shaft main room and out the door to the four-wheeler. He started it up and motored up the shaft.

The briefings that he had read on the Internet and the few eyewitness accounts that had made it out of Europe came to mind, so he stopped the vehicle a good hundred meters or more inside the shaft and ran the rest of the way. Fortunately, he was in good shape from all those trips up and down the mine. He reached the mine’s entrance and eased out into the pathway that led uphill to the cabin. There was no sign of alien robots that he could see, so he darted across the small clearing at the entrance where the logging road ran into the mine. He stayed near the edge of the road hoping that the trees would help cover him — but he didn’t count on it.

One thing he couldn’t understand was, why now? Richard had been preparing for the bots and all the intel and briefings that had been released to the public had suggested that they were not any farther than Greenland and that they would not be to the States for some time. Worse than that was the fact that the bots typically attacked the big cities first. So why in the hell were they here in the northwestern mountains of South Carolina in the middle of nowhere? This was too soon. He hadn’t had time to bot-proof the cabin.

About a hundred feet down the logging road he turned uphill on a footpath that they had worn as a shortcut up to the cabin. The path led him through the rocks and the oak trees that were typical of northwestern South Carolina woods along the Appalachian trail and wound its way to the rear of the small dovetail construction log cabin. As Richard turned the corner to the side of the cabin where the driveway ended there sat Helena. In front of her were pieces of four tires that looked like the steel belts had been ripped right out of the rubber — and the wheels were nowhere to be seen — and what appeared to be pieces of automobile carpet and upholstery, pieces of plastic, vinyl and rubber. The mess looked like a monster had eaten their pickup truck and vomited out anything that wasn’t metal. There was nothing left of the Ford F-250. Ford tough was apparently not tough enough to withstand alien robots.

“Are you… harmed?” Richard touched Helena on the shoulder.