Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse

Clio and Cy

Christopher Lee

Copyright © 2014 by Christopher Lee. All rights reserved. No
part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Printed in the United States
of America.

Book Design and by
Professional Publications

I dare you to
read this book… at night.

Clio and Cy,
The Apocalypse
, wasn’t intended to be a horror story and it’s certainly
not that in its entirety. But while grinding out the first draft in the
loneliness of the night, I actually messed my pants a few times.

Maybe I
shouldn’t admit this, but screw it, here goes: when I wrote this book - scenes
became alive and the air around me was charged with eeriness. Like lightning,
that spooky energy struck me frequently. Looking into my computer screen, I’d
see reflections, demonic images, and beasts, viscous ones, and then I’d pause
as a cold shiver climbed up my back, slowly, I’d turn.
You’re ok pussy; there’s nothing behind you…

Like a vampire
rising from its catacomb, monsters and metal crawled from my subconscious mind.
Goose bumps tingled along my skin. Certain chapters were that creepy and
disturbing to write. They weren’t all scary though. Some parts were fun, most
of them actually, and others were exciting.

I was unaware
of the “Post-Apocalyptic” genre craze and its prevalence had nothing to do with
me writing this novel.
The devil made me do it,
or maybe it was an angel. I think most people have those two resting on their
shoulders, both whispering commands in their ears, locked in the eternal
struggle. Either way, I can only write what I’m called to write. Although,
honestly, I hope whatever that crazy bastard is, the one that’s always calling
me, whether it’s cloaked in white, draped in red, it makes no matter. I ask
only one thing, please, whatever you are, don’t ever stop using that nutty
phone in my head. Dial sucker! I digress…

Unlike my last plodding
bitch of a book,
Revenge of the Samurai,
this Post-Apocalyptic story was passion par excellence.

I wrote it prepped with
technology, instilled with the knowledge of elite commandos. My flesh armed in
primitive instincts, I seasoned it with the lust of bloodthirsty flesh-eaters;
stirred in a portion of good, of evil, and grey. All the elements were tasty
ingredients, helping me mix one hell of a meal.
Clio
and Cy, The Apocalypse,
was simply a blast to write.

Satellites allow Internet
systems to remain operational; homes run via antimatter-generators and solar
power, for those few structures that are left standing anyway. Over the years,
mankind’s inventions have provided the inhabitants of earth with comfort,
speed, healing and the like. Usually without a choice, we’ve taken technologies
- good with the bad; pain and death and destruction, those things too we
brought on ourselves.

Outside of the military
battles, this work of fiction primarily centers around two protagonists, Clio
and Cy. The former is a twelve-year-old girl while the latter is something
quite different. A thousand years in the future, both hang by their fingernails
and fight through earth’s post-war landscape. The armed services, the
Resistance, or freedom fighters if you like; a few warriors from those banners
too play their role.

This book is not all
guns, gore, and carnage though. Heart felt relationships and character
development are as prominent, I hope, as the epic combat and survival of the
people in each scene.

First and foremost I have to thank
my daughter, Taylor. She is the one who gave me the initial idea for the story.
Along with her beauty and kindness, her creativity knows no bounds. Taylor is
thirteen and already twice the artist that I could ever hope to become. Being
her father I’ve truly come to realize that artists aren’t made, for the most
part, they are born.

Second I’d like to thank decisions.
Decisions…
all the ones I’ve made
throughout my life, some were crazy. Ok, maybe a bit more than some. Whether it
was volunteering for special ops in the military, doing covert surveillance in
the private sector, being a single father, or fighting in submission tournaments;
all the things I’ve done have formed my writing style. Hopefully that
style,
my
form
in this craft that I love - is always getting better.

Jill Snodgrass gets a very special
nod on this one. Her initial edits and proof reading have definitely made this
a better book. Jill is also the best beta test reader on the planet. For my
labor of love, and with my utmost appreciation, thank you Jill for the amazing
job you so patiently performed.

I’d also like to thank my editor, Carol Ann Johnson. My
finished product could have never come to fruition if not for her. Her insight
and gentle guidance have made this a better book

I dedicate this book to my
daughter, Taylor. She’s my inspiration. I love you daughter of mine, you beautiful
creature.

Also, I dedicate this book to my
parents. They’ve both supported me and loved me no matter what
decisions
I’ve made. As lottery winners
go, I surely won the parent drawing.

To those that take this ride - from
the bottom of my heart - I hope you enjoy.

Historic

“Give me but a firm spot on which to stand, and I shall move
the earth.”

― Archimedes

Sometimes technological advances take time. Inventions nap,
lying dormant before waking and leaping vengeful, in ferocious marvel from
their sleep. It was like that before they were born, before they rose to power.
Smartbots were just over the horizon.

Washington, DC, 2989:
Dr.
Seth Pavlov patents Q.A.I. (Quantum Artificial Intelligence). To cope with the
rigors of Pavlov’s new cutting edge retrieval systems, robotics came up to
speed and advanced to handle the calculating demands. Next, the robots were
tested and designed around the lighting rod of brilliant QAI.

From building cars on an assembly line to performing
delicate surgery procedures, robots had been part of our workforce for over a
thousand years. In every area, they made life better. That too took a
quantum
leap forward.

Savannah, GA, February
2991:
Dr. Seth Pavlov’s Global Autonomics Corporation, Inc. completes its
first QAI driven prototype. Later that year, the first autonomic production
model rolled, or rather walked, off the assembly line. Usher in Smartbots.

Dr. Pavlov didn’t try to re-create the human brain. He
intended QAI as an improvement over evolution. Their data centers weren’t
modeled after the human mind either; his metal creations used sophisticated
sensors, cutting-edge algorithms, and seamless processing in mechanized
learning patterns. Smartbots could perform single tasks alone, or work together
in groups, like bees – harmonized, melding as a single united force.

Pavlov’s robots resembled the human form, but they weren’t
cyborgs. Smartbots were all machine – metal and energy, devoid of souls. They
could do the heavy lifting and outwork any human. Slowly, the orders started
coming.

One by one, businesses purchased them. QAI Smartbots came in
two models:

Design One: -
A.I.L.
Model #0091
(Automaton Industrial Loader)
The massive and powerful Heavy-Duty workhorse.

Design Two: -
A.R.U.
Model #0092
(Automaton Personnel Retirement Unit)
The nimble, man-sized, office couriers.

At first, the machines’ biggest crime was knocking off
low-level factory workers. Nicknamed, “Al,” Industrial Corporations gobbled the
Heavy-Duty A.I.L. units into their commercial arenas. The smaller A.R.U. model
was soon nicknamed “Art,” and became bona fide office staff in many of the
businesses that could afford to purchase them.

Year 2997:
Global
Autonomics Corporation, Inc. supplies over half of the world’s businesses with
Smartbots. Increased purchases meant decreased production costs. Every
profitable small business bought one. They trickled down… Wealthy individuals
began owning them.

Pavlov’s Smartbots pervaded every continent, living among us
and seen as super workers. Mankind viewed Smartbots as the catalyst to a
thriving global economy. Recognized as saviors to some, they were regarded as
proprietors of prosperity. Inhabitants of third world countries worshipped them
as if they were gods; other primitive cultures saw them as shiny devils.

 
Not that it mattered
since the damn things were almost bullet proof, but Global Autonomics
Corporation Inc., had a strict company policy: “Don’t tamper, alter, or attempt
to disassemble one single bolt from one single bot.” Doing so immediately
caused the ten-year warranty to expire.

Like the desktop computer in the twenty first century,
Smartbots became necessity. The world’s armed services got in on the action. As
much as soldiers and airmen, Al and Art became familiar residents on base as if
they were uniformed service members. And like jets and Hum-Zs, the Smartbots
were acclimated as part of earth’s military, highly regarded by enlisted and
officers alike. One group, however, kept them at arm’s length.

United States Marines are famous for
doing without
, as much as they are for their distrust of outsiders.
Camp Pendleton and Camp Lejeune were the only two major military installations
not equipped with the new autonomic workers. Budget aside, they didn’t want the
damn things roaming in their midst. The metal bastards were too creepy and
lifelike.

The Department of Defense and its contractors saw the robots
potential for a more aggressive application. They tried to come up with their
own designs. Time and time again they failed. The DOD’s attempts at recreating
Dr. Pavlov’s QAI driven robots were embarrassingly unsuccessful. The DOD asked
nicely, but the doctor wasn’t going to give up his secrets as to how the
machines worked. The government stole Pavlov’s patents, which were later
discovered to be useless to them.

Defense contractors could recreate the robotics well enough,
but the QAI systems baffled them. Pavlov designed it that way. If the DOD and
CIA couldn’t control the Smartbots like chess pieces on their private game
board, they wanted them gone.

Luckily for Dr. Pavlov, lobbyists were powerful and
businesses weren’t going to give them up without a fight. Taking away the
robots was akin to going back to the Stone Age. You might as well do away with
the wheel and electricity in the minds of corporations that profited from their
non-stop, never-bitch, never-get-tired work efforts.

After the DOD continued to come up empty handed, blunder
after blunder, The Joint Chiefs grew increasingly restless. Inside the Pentagon
and behind America’s clandestine walled agencies, this new army of Smartbots
was seen as a continuously growing threat.