Von Neumann’s War

“Sixty days,” the director of FEMA replied. “And those tent cities aren’t entirely metal free. If the bots hit them, there is going to be reduced impact but not zero impact. Among other things, any large population requires security forces. The security is provided by National Guard at the moment, but if you rip away their weapons they’re just a bunch of kids with uniforms.”

“We anticipated that issue,” General Mitchell replied, smiling faintly. “We’re implementing training in nonprojectile and zero-metal projectile weapons.”

“Care to translate that for me?” the President asked, frowning.

“The units are being rearmed with staffs, quarterstaffs, and bows,” General Mitchell said, shrugging. “We’re also falling back on historical communications models.” He looked over at the aide de camp at his shoulder and then back.

“The original purpose of an aide de camp was to carry messages, and messengers were a primary communications method as late as the First World War. We’ve established cavalry messenger posts across a large area and we’re slowly expanding that area. Even if the Internet goes down entirely we should be able to maintain communications across the U.S. Slow communications, but communications. The Army has extensive experience in continuing under rather odd conditions, Mr. President. I mean, we’ve got manuals that cover most of the conditions we’re going to be running into. As long as the food holds out, we’re going to stay an Army.”

“Good to hear that at least one thing is working,” the President said, nodding. “Any projections as to what cities might be next?”

“Not at this time,” General Mitchell said. “So far they’re hitting the East Coast and seem to be working south and east. We’ve established lidar sites across the country hooked into the internet and SIPARNET.”

“Lidar is…” the President said, holding up a hand to forestall response. “That’s using lasers as radar, right?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Mitchell said, trying not to grin. “Close enough. The problem is that it’s limited as hell. But, on the other hand, the bots don’t seem to detect low-power laser. The lidar is where we’re getting some of the data on spread. We got the idea from the satellites that NRO managed to field.” He paused as an aide entered the room and handed him a message. He looked at it for a moment and then frowned.

“Speaking of lidar, we just picked up a… call it one of the ‘main’ tubes lifting off from near where Trenton used to be. The other attacks came in on relatively low vectors, that is they didn’t get very high since the other cities were relatively close. This one is heading for altitude.”

“Where’s it headed?” the President asked, frowning.

“Unknown at this time,” the general said. “West. But that’s the rest of the country. Chicago? St. Louis? Here? The West Coast? Unknown at this time.”

Another aide came in and gestured at the plasma screen on the wall.

“We’ve finally gotten the lidar software working, sir,” the female aide said in a soft voice. “Channel ninety-two should give you a view. It’s controlled from the battle center; if you—”

The view on the screen was of a map of the North American continent. The tube, big as it was, wouldn’t have been visible, but there was a large karat over it as well as smaller ones over the lesser tubes spreading along the eastern seaboard.

“There goes Baltimore,” the President said. “I don’t know if I’m grateful or hate the fact that we’ve got real-time information. Not much we can do about it, is there?”

“Something coming in on Fox,” Vicki said nodding to an aide. The screen was changed to a view of a reporter trying to describe what was going on behind him. The sound was off, but they didn’t really need it.

Two ships, liners by the looks of them, were visible at sea. A swarm of bots was in pursuit, but even as they headed for the undefended ships another, larger, ship came into view. It was a carrier, from the perspective on the shot it wasn’t clear which, that was interposing its bulk between the fleeing cruise ships and the bot swarm.

Flickers of tracers from the carrier’s Phalanx guns reached out towards the bot swarm but the depleted uranium rounds were swallowed to no effect. Then the swarm reached the carrier and began to cover it. And the ship began to disintegrate.

The last shot was of the carrier’s island slumping off and splashing into the sea. By that time the ship had been eaten down below the flight deck, and fires from ruptured fuel bunkers had turned it into an inferno from which small, burning, figures could be seen falling. But the liners were well out to sea, probably beyond the range of the bots’ interest.

“That was the Carl Vinson,” General Mitchell said to the hushed room. “Five thousand men and women. Those liners are filled with the last refugees from Washington and Baltimore. They’re headed for Bermuda. For all the good it will do them.”