with it falling between Cuba’s and the United States’ governance. The two countries had had plenty of issues. And, of course, the initial discovery had been right before 9/11. Everything had stopped after that, with the obsession over Homeland Insecurity taking precedence. Who cared about looking at old underwater ruins, especially near Cuba, when there were civil rights to infringe upon in the name of national security?
Their loss was her gain.
Technology had marched on significantly during the last decade, so the timing was good in that regard too. They were capable of closer scrutiny, with significantly more clarity, at much less cost. And back in 2001 there was no way she’d have been involved without being on-site—innovations in global communication and file-sharing had changed the world in ways it was still hard to comprehend. To quote Walt Disney, it really was a small world after all.
It was also one in which the university employed ancient backup generators, otherwise it would have been as dead in here as it was out there. Sometimes it was good to linger in the technological dark ages, she thought wryly. The hard-science division eggheads were always playing around with miniature cyclotrons and god only knows what else, everything they touched capable of generating massive power surges capable of bringing down the network—so all of the computers on campus were shielded, and isolated from the city’s electrical grid. The grid had been out for six hours now. It was probably their fault. Her network connection kept dropping, but other than that mild annoyance, her system seemed okay even if it had taken about five times longer than necessary to download the initial batch of files to her local hard drive to access whenever she needed.
But there was no getting around the fact that things were weird outside Columbia’s walls. An ounce of imagination was a very bad thing.
At first it had been a cacophony of honking and blaring horns following the unmistakable screech of tires and squeal of brakes and the sharp, tearing sound of metal upon metal. Quickly it had transformed into the chaos of crunching impacts and so much else, but those had been overtaken by the proper sounds of chaos. Voices first. People screaming, initially in fear, then at each other. Eerie silence had slowly taken over, and that was worse than all of the noise put together.
Finn hadn’t dared leave the university’s protection to see what was left out there. In her mind the world beyond the campus limits had taken on a complete Escape From New York vibe. The problem was, she was no Snake Plissken. She didn’t want to venture out in case it turned out there was nothing but a wasteland beyond the campus gates. She couldn’t help it. Once her mind had gone down that track all she could imagine was a barren Mad Max esque ruin that had once been one of the busiest cities in the world.
Give it enough time and there’ll be primitive tribes out there, people hunkering down behind makeshift forts and attacking each other with whatever weapons they can bring to hand , she thought. All that was needed for wide-scale panic to kick in was someone realizing the lights weren’t coming back on—then they’d lead a revolution straight to the nearest grocery store, slaughtering anyone who tried to take the food from their hungry mouths.
It was basic psychology.
It had been drummed into the American psyche ever since the Y2K hype. The whole notion that the computers would just suddenly stop and everything they knew and trusted and built their lives around would come to a juddering halt was ingrained now. The first hint of trouble, of a tornado or even a storm warning, and the lines at the groceries stores were a mile long with people lining up for toilet rolls and stockpiling batteries and canned foods, anything with a long life, anything that wouldn’t go off and stink the place up. Then they’d go back and turn their homes into bunkers and
Their loss was her gain.
Technology had marched on significantly during the last decade, so the timing was good in that regard too. They were capable of closer scrutiny, with significantly more clarity, at much less cost. And back in 2001 there was no way she’d have been involved without being on-site—innovations in global communication and file-sharing had changed the world in ways it was still hard to comprehend. To quote Walt Disney, it really was a small world after all.
It was also one in which the university employed ancient backup generators, otherwise it would have been as dead in here as it was out there. Sometimes it was good to linger in the technological dark ages, she thought wryly. The hard-science division eggheads were always playing around with miniature cyclotrons and god only knows what else, everything they touched capable of generating massive power surges capable of bringing down the network—so all of the computers on campus were shielded, and isolated from the city’s electrical grid. The grid had been out for six hours now. It was probably their fault. Her network connection kept dropping, but other than that mild annoyance, her system seemed okay even if it had taken about five times longer than necessary to download the initial batch of files to her local hard drive to access whenever she needed.
But there was no getting around the fact that things were weird outside Columbia’s walls. An ounce of imagination was a very bad thing.
At first it had been a cacophony of honking and blaring horns following the unmistakable screech of tires and squeal of brakes and the sharp, tearing sound of metal upon metal. Quickly it had transformed into the chaos of crunching impacts and so much else, but those had been overtaken by the proper sounds of chaos. Voices first. People screaming, initially in fear, then at each other. Eerie silence had slowly taken over, and that was worse than all of the noise put together.
Finn hadn’t dared leave the university’s protection to see what was left out there. In her mind the world beyond the campus limits had taken on a complete Escape From New York vibe. The problem was, she was no Snake Plissken. She didn’t want to venture out in case it turned out there was nothing but a wasteland beyond the campus gates. She couldn’t help it. Once her mind had gone down that track all she could imagine was a barren Mad Max esque ruin that had once been one of the busiest cities in the world.
Give it enough time and there’ll be primitive tribes out there, people hunkering down behind makeshift forts and attacking each other with whatever weapons they can bring to hand , she thought. All that was needed for wide-scale panic to kick in was someone realizing the lights weren’t coming back on—then they’d lead a revolution straight to the nearest grocery store, slaughtering anyone who tried to take the food from their hungry mouths.
It was basic psychology.
It had been drummed into the American psyche ever since the Y2K hype. The whole notion that the computers would just suddenly stop and everything they knew and trusted and built their lives around would come to a juddering halt was ingrained now. The first hint of trouble, of a tornado or even a storm warning, and the lines at the groceries stores were a mile long with people lining up for toilet rolls and stockpiling batteries and canned foods, anything with a long life, anything that wouldn’t go off and stink the place up. Then they’d go back and turn their homes into bunkers and
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