Prologue:

Fall from Eden

And the righteous and unrighteous alike were consumed in that righteous fire.

Stephen King, The Stand

1.

The man stared at the computer as he typed. Rimless glasses took in the light, making him almost look like a specter.

The room was small, almost like a grave. It was gray and sterile, like a tomb of a great pharaoh. It was windowless and seemed to be like some sort of bunker. Littered around it were countless books and documents.

The man sighed as he stopped typing and began to look around the darkness of the room. I can’t stand this.

God, I hate Montana, he said to himself, I should have never agreed to work in this craphole. I never even see my family anymore; all I do is monitor The Project.

A red light began to blink in the upper-right corner of the computer. The man looked at it with a hint of confusion. In response to this strange light, he began to use some of the anti-virus applications.

None of the applications found anything.

“Strange,” he whispered.

The cursor highlighted Project Zeus, and he double clicked. He paused and with some minor difficulty remembered the password.

Captain Tripps, he typed.

A large eye with a pink iris took over the screen. It blinked twice and disappeared. The cursor began to move on its own. It highlighted Thunderbolt One and clicked to show the yes, it indeed did want to power up the satellite.

It went down the list, clicking on every Thunderbolt.

The man stared with horror. He grabbed his cell phone and attempted to call NASA.

Not really just NASA, he wanted to call anyone that could help him.

Anyone at all.

The cell phone’s line was dead.

He tried the phone next to his computer.

It was also dead.

The computer exited the program.

Sweat began pouring from his forehead. He typed, trying to find something to disable what this virus—no hacker—had done. And as he typed, he started to pray the only line of prayer that he could remember.

Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail, Mary, full of grace.

Files opened and closed. The man initiated programs and quickly closed them.

An idea popped into his head.

Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace.

The cursor clicked on Project Zeus.

Captain Tripps, he typed in a flurry, hardly seeming to touch the keys.

“Access denied,” the cool voice of the computer replied.

Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace.

“This can’t be happening,” he informed himself.

Think like a hacker. Think like one of those religious fundamentalists. For Christ’s sake think!

Neon god, he typed.

“Access denied,” the computer said in what the man knew was a mocking voice.

Death to the infidels, he typed.

“Access denied,” the computer seemed to close to laughter now.

Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace.

Fall of humanity, he typed.

“Access Denied,” it was laughing now. The voice was laughing.

Fall from Eden, the man typed.

“Access granted,” once again it spoke in a monotonous tone.

Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of grace.

“I am in Project Zeus!” he yelled at the ceiling.

All of Africa and half of Asia were gone, destroyed by that pure white plasma.

What if I failed? What would the colony in outer space do without power, without the solar cells that fuel their electronics? They haven’t even been delivered yet.

For a few seconds there was no coherent thought, just typing.

Maybe they’ll be the lucky ones.

Hail Mary, full of grace. Hail Mary, full of gra-

2.

The white light of Project Zeus consumed Earth, killing every man and woman, holy and unholy, regardless of race or creed. Our Eden finally fell.