After the fallout, the wrath of the devastation left nothing to sustain human life as it had always been known ~ and thus taken for granted ~ without the implantation of specific devices to enhance and maintain a hybrid form of human life, such has it was with Warby. He was a “cyborg”, and had a flat unit the size of a laptop implanted at surface of his back with eight connecting leads going downward and into his spine, controlling his central nervous system, and eight more that were going upward into the base of his neck, activating and enhancing his brain and behavior functions. The whole device was computer chipped for human survival, recharging itself much like a car alternator would charge the battery, although Warby’s system charged off the electrical field surrounding his heart.
Interplanetary space travel had brought with it travelers from other areas of the universe, and with that, also introduced the surgical wizardry of elevated life forms formerly referred to as “aliens” to the ashen remains of earth, selecting random bodies of those lost, to perform and transform them into “cyborg specimens”. Leaving some to remain on earth for continued research, while others were taken to other locations of the interplanetary base for further development into super hybrids. Warby was one of the specimens, and had been left on the apocalyptic earth . . .
It was just another day, no different than any before, when Warby went out on his usual routine of collecting any remnant that could be used or saved. This had become part of what his days consisted of after the fallout, and he had amassed quite the inventory of what would be useful odds ‘n ends, depending upon the situation at hand. It was on that day however, that he had come across something a bit different than usual, and it must have somehow landed there overnight, because he had already been through there the night before. A small shallow black box, about three inches square, with stamped words that he could not read because it was in a language not familiar to him, and it had two metal prongs protruding out from one side about an inch. He was curious at first, then fascinated by what would come of his find . . . being the tinkering jack-smith that he was.
Warby lived in an abandoned salvage yard, he had forged out makeshift tunnel ways throughout the debris to make his own honeycomb of passage ways within, and areas for the harvesting of food producing plant life, along with various projects we was working on. Upon examining the black box more closely, he recognized it had belonged to some sort of communications system, although foreign, and so wanted to put his thoughts to the test. Going to one of his project areas where he had assembled his own transmitter from a maze of mismatched parts ~ but was lacking the booster needed to reach out even farther than what he had been ~ he then gathered what he needed to incorporate and attach the black box into his transmitter. After a few failed attempts to get any signal, he gave up for the evening and would try again the next day.
Sometime through the night, Warby was suddenly awakened by the transmitter noise, and scurried over to have a listen . . . The foreign voice on the other end he could not understand, so after some thought he came up with an idea to see if in fact he could establish some sort of link to communicate with, using numbers. So he began with “eight, twelve, sixteen”, with pause then repeating twice more, after which he started hearing another voice appearing to be communicating with the first voice that he was first hearing, and then to his astonishment he heard the numbers being repeated back to him !! So in rhythm he repeated the sequence again, and after a few seconds the very same was being repeated back to him, whoever was at the other end had heard him and was transmitting back to confirm !! Although he did not know who was at the other end or where they were, Warby had made contact.
As dawn approached, Warby continued with various numbers, even various sounds, until he made the clicking tones . . . The other end was leading the transmission at this point with their own clicking sequence, to see if Warby would copy that and relay back. He did of course, and also started to take note on a pattern that had formed. The series of clicks and pauses imitated the syllables and pauses much like brief sentences, but the syllables had gotten shorter, down to just a click or two with longer pauses, and had gotten much louder as well. Warby surmised at this point that whatever or whomever he had been communicating with, had also moved closer to his transmission location, and he wondered ~ what did he just do (?)
Hearing the sounds of metal and salvage debris being rustled about overhead, as the surface beneath him rumbled, Warby headed out to the open yard area to see what was going on . . . It wasn’t like anything he had ever seen before, a hovering spacecraft of sorts, with a patchwork of a body made from parts of other spaceships, a couple sections even had “Apollo” stamped on them, there were others stamped with “NASA”, but the rest were either not stamped or were stamped with foreign words. There were powerful blower cones spaced around the so called starship, which had created the disturbance of the salvage debris, they appeared to stabilize and guide the looming flying machine. The interplanetary craft appeared to be from some other distant apocalyptic parallel and was by then just a few feet from touching down on the very grounds where Warby stood. Feeling a calm come over him and subdue him, Warby stood motionless as the craft finally landed on the same ground a short distance from where he stood.
Had the transmitted shared signals been some sort of beacon in the night (?) Had Warby unknowingly summoned an unknown presence (?) Perhaps to rescue him (?) Or to transport him to a mother ship for examination (?) Whatever the intentions were to be, he would soon know more about the space travelers on board . . .
The sky all around him had already taken on a rich red like hue, at one time this was thought of as the pretext for red dawn ~ the apocalyptic beginning of the end of days ~ but that time had already occurred, and the outcome, the fallout, had turned out much different than had ever been predicted or written about.
It was then that he noticed an opening, being raised upward, and a ramp descending downward . . .
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