Chapter 1: Chapter 1- Serenity and Carnage

Calm was the morning noon.

Calm was the sky above a mirage of clouds, as they drifted past the naked eye at a pace one could count.

Calm was the quiet trees and snow, where the only sounds alive were the ruffling of leaves, no birds, just leaves.

Calm was the sleeping denizens of the world, where each mammal rested eternally.

For many who were once those denizens. They now rested in serenity.

*SHOCKWAVE

But calm was not the cities. Not the spires of glass and steel which crumbled, shattered or bruised those within. Not as screams so quiet that you'd believe it was a mis-reading, covered the plain of asphalt, not as bodies fell from the ones that remained standing for the moment.

*BEAM

Calm was not the warheads. Which flew thousands of miles to deliver death to all those who remain. To deliver the hatred of men who sat in their broken offices and decretive governments, all of which would soon fall too. The pain was for all to witness, as radiation and biological weapons filled the atmosphere.

"FIRE THE FLARES"

Calm was not the remaining soldiers. Each of which were at the brink of collapse, mentally disfigured by the previous 48 hours. They fought against the barrage of missiles while simultaneously sending their own, but fortunately, they wouldn't need to wait for peace any longer. Soon they would meet the main attraction of the hundreds of weapons fired at their nation.

*WHOOOSH

Calm was not the children, who stared at the sky in both awe and shock, as their families cried and teared. Holding their children close to their chest, a single child was clueless to all the encompassed the moment. He stared at the fireworks like he did every New Year, he was mesmerized. looking upon the skies, parents shook, grandparents wept, the rest committed suicide to die with some resemblance of choice. Yet like many, no one would survive what happened next. Out of all the pretty fireworks that covered the sky, as single one far away into the stratosphere gleamed red. It caught the boy's attention as he pushed from his mother ribs in joy.

*Flare

"MOMMY! Look! A second Sun-" A child spoke before both he and his mother turned to black char.

Calm was the ashes that were left afterwards, as families were obliterated. Calm was the silent terrors in their minds. They had finally found peace. Their hands no longer carried the burden of life. They lived. They died. It was more than those who survived had, more than what was yet to arrive at their doors.

*BOOOM

...

---

(Minnesota - A junkyard Laboratory - Alex Whineswen)

*boom

The TV cowled as the remaining channels broadcasted the destruction of San Fran Sisco. A miniature nuclear warhead sent by what remained of the Communist federations had finally reached it's target after over 70 years of a Cold war. It sailed the sky as the rest of the world fell in shambles from their own actions, the detonation exasperated the already lethal climate. Perhaps the stress was simply too much for those few who fell into panic as their crops, cattle and food supplies dwindled. Perhaps, it was the pettiness of the European powers who intentionally interrupted the plans of the Russians and Chinese to build underground bunkers, said to qualify as giving up on the world. Either way, it would not be long before China fell from their infighting, not that Europe could fall any further after this.

They too had a revolt, which was met with pure violent disregard. It was only after a massacre that somehow, the Union collapsed.

"Damn it." A man whispered as he stared at the retro TV, one of the only few that actually flinched from static as radio waves far away interfered with the remaining signal.

The US was falling. Sooner or later, it would be one of many in the world. Not because of the warheads. No. That was the last problem to deal with.

Atmospheric temperature fluxed as in increased by over 40 Celsius in some parts of the world, and Under 60 in the rest.

It was a red winter in Russia, which froze over almost every public building, it was boiling in the US, which killed all possible forms of life, except for the genetically modified ones. Like the trees, which somehow managed to survive.

"-I really need to get this done. Soon enough, we'll be able to breathe once again. Soon." He spoke as he moved towards the centerpiece, passing by a photo of his family. Where he would have stopped o see his lovely wife and daughter, now, now he had to finish this.

He had lost so much, his life, family, job, arm, so so much. Yet he kept going, persisting against whichever afterlife that called his name every single night. Why? Why would someone who lost everything keep treading through what many screamed out as hell?

"Soon. We must make haste, so you'll have to pick everything else up. I know it isn't the best birthday gift from a  father, but please, live." He spoke as he touched a glowing red medical tube. Large enough to fit a full grown adult within, it pulse crimson, the very color of blood as audible movement within was heard. It drifted side to side as several equipment monitored it's 'Brainwaves', displaying them on screen.

"The E.M.P Protection won't last." He speaks as the machines flicker for a moment, "Even the lead casings on this place won't be able to stop a closer attack. The birth is nigh." He speaks, taking his palm of the glass casing, which caused movement readings to drop by a significant level. The ground shook briefly, machines flickered, but somehow, they held their ground.

He marched, like a war was brewing.

Grabbing the remaining papers on his desk. He could never let anyone, ANYONE, see what he'd done to achieve his specimen. The several trails of research, no, the revolutionary equipment he'd produce. He wouldn't allow them to take it from him again.

He stacked them into a file and organized them into a duffle case, where he'd drag the four kilos worth of notes and designs to the machine.

Dropping the bag haphazardly, he moved along to the computer, where he'd feed it's neural networks the last piece it needed to be truly alive. Desire. Greed. Aspiration. Rejection. But never, ever any contradictions. He couldn't allow something so insignificant to ruin his work; He wouldn't birth any failure from it.

You are reading story The Scarlett Machine at novel35.com

The final piece he picked from his pocket was a vial. A single red blood vial, filled with the genes of whom he cared the greatest. He placed the vial in, to which like the hundreds upon hundred of DNA samples he'd collected, it analyzed it within mere minutes.

"Goodbye my daughter. Be born." He muttered, grabbing his Smith&Wesson Revolver from the drawer, he pressed the button to release what he'd has made.

A few mad chuckles escaped his lips as he pondered how far he's truly lost it. If this worked, would it be any better than what was happening now. Doubts covered his mind, but the single thought of his daughter's face only strengthened his resolve. His world was soon to be destroyed by those politicians who took EVERYTHING from him. HIS RESEARCH. HIS FAMILY. They would know damnation. On biblical proportions.

The machine computed the last percentages of his daughters genome. It fizzed as a computerized voice asked his his last question. "Detecting release module. Do you authorize the release of Specimen 'Zero-Ex-Three'?"

"Authorize." He spoke loudly, with not a single sliver of his anticipation showing. Perhaps he couldn't care what happened now, he just wanted to see this end. The machine took a few seconds to react as it digested his voice, but the glass soon drained as the casing opened with a puff of nitrogen and carbon dioxide.

There stood a child. One with no bodily features such as fingerprints, creases in the skin or other unnecessary designs it deemed irrelevant. It's flesh was more like silicone as all impurities had been stripped from its genes.

It stood with a blank expression, breathing it's first breathe of real air. Breathing the impurities, it's body shifted to account for the radiation, it's ribs, skin, and flesh momentarily deformed into a crimson mass, but soon reorganized itself.

"My daughter." He spoke with glee, proudness as he faced his daughter. He would give no tears, not on her birthday. He smiled at his beautiful creation. He smiled at his daughter. For she was truly amazing.

She looked at him, her eyes mechanically facing his, her neck twisted upwards like it was the first time she had ever moved, her 'muscles' still adjusting. Though it was simply an illusion, she looked surreal.

"I have not much to give you, dear. I have anticipated this meeting for so long, yet I can't seem to find the words." he chuckled, clicking his Smith&Wesson, to which she gave only the slightest glances. "I want you to know that you mean so much, so much to me. I cannot give you much besides my love and these old notes, I- I did prepare something for you, my child. Be happy."

His hand widened like a circus showman presenting to a crowd, his grin was immaculate, like he was presenting a great present. His left arm dangled as its blacker, charred skin yet raised, ignoring any vestige of pain left from it. His glasses shone brightly, his eyes, filled with remorse, regret, for once gleamed in pride.

As the images of his real daughter appeared in his mind. Her smile on the swings she loved with all her hearts. Her eyes when she called out her father. He could only do one more thing.

'Daddy!' He could practically hear her. Her sweet innocent smile.

It brought a deranged grin to his face.

"Olivia. My daughter, I give you the world." He spoke, pulling the gun to his temple, and pulling the trigger. 

Perhaps it was the large ceiling lights, perhaps it was the maddening air and moisture, but a small glint appeared under his eyes as he spoke his heart. The words he never got to offer his first child.

*BANG

Yet, he chose to die with a smile. Perhaps he met his own peace then. Perhaps he met little salvation. The splattering of his internals covered the wall as slowly, his body shook. Unable to keep himself standing, he fell backwards, staining the tiled floor.

...

*Thud

His body hit the floor as the gun rolled out of his finger tips, his body would soon go cold, and for several minutes, Olivia would only gaze at the corpse without a single expression on her 'cheeks'. Her 'lips' were still as she savoured the sight. Her 'eyes' only dialated to see the sight, as no remains of emotion had revealed.

How the brain matter skidding down the floor, the spinal fluid pouring with plasma and blood from his cracked skull, staining his perfectly white lab coat with the color of his insides. She would simulated how the liquid would droop, if only to match the assumed viscosity. She would use it as a learning experience perhaps.

It brought some sensation exterior to physical boundaries for her. Yet she couldn't tell what sensation that was. She had no comparison to the feeling. So she ignored it entirely.

Gazing around, now that the only person she was designated to respond for had died, sha had to assume her intended objective.

She was curious.. No it was... Interest, and confusion.

She could only ponder on what he meant with his words, comparing it to the thousands of files and records in her mind downloaded from what was left of the internet, where the words 'I'll give you the world.' Repeated through book after book, essay after essay. She found no match considering the context it was given, a dead man lay a few meters from her feet, only few records matched the scenario, yet each had an innately incorrect comparison with her current scenario.

As she gazed her pupils to the paint recoloured from a metallic grey to pink and red, she stared blankly before asking the question.

"Why was I born?" She spoke, as she looked over the words of her father.

Soon, her eyes grazed the dufflebag of files that sided to his charred left arm.

It was filled to the brim with notes and designs, she received conformation from her internal systems that they pertained some importance.

His words, 'besides my love and these old notes.' She reassessed his words and moved shakily. Controlling a body was more difficult at first, but like her many other simulations, would be easier within an hour's training.

 

You can find story with these keywords: The Scarlett Machine, Read The Scarlett Machine, The Scarlett Machine novel, The Scarlett Machine book, The Scarlett Machine story, The Scarlett Machine full, The Scarlett Machine Latest Chapter