Excerpted from TRAITOR, Sloppy Beta Press
We were sitting at the dinner table, which was a rare and magical occurrence to begin with. I mean, back then, I was doing drama and chorus, and Ethan always had some appointment or some therapy thing. We ate out, like, all the time. But not that night. Daddy had made a lasagna, which was another miracle, because it was usually pizza or takeout Chinese from this little hole in the wall in town.
Mom was in a good mood, Ethan was doing great, and Daddy was holding forth about the end of the world. He’d just sent off this short story about a world where a genetically engineered virus had zombified all the men...just the men, not the women...and was in that hopeful, bubbly, delusional place where he was sure it was going to get published.
We were peppering him with questions about how to survive all of the possible different ways we all die, all of the humanity-ending events that we could imagine.
Which, yeah, maybe that’s kind of a weird good family memory, but it’s a good memory anyway.
Mom was in a good mood, Ethan was doing great, and Daddy was holding forth about the end of the world. He’d just sent off this short story about a world where a genetically engineered virus had zombified all the men...just the men, not the women...and was in that hopeful, bubbly, delusional place where he was sure it was going to get published.
We were peppering him with questions about how to survive all of the possible different ways we all die, all of the humanity-ending events that we could imagine.
Which, yeah, maybe that’s kind of a weird good family memory, but it’s a good memory anyway.
“So what, what if, what if it’s zombies?” Ethan asking, of course.
Daddy grinned. “Well, we live outside of town, so that first wave won’t get us. That’s important, right? And second, we’ve got a full month of supplies, plenty to let us stay locked down and safe for the first wave.’
Ethan nodded, happily, and Daddy continued. “And I’ve still got that old leather motorcycle suit...which I still fit into, let it be said, right honey?”
Mom raised her glass, and Daddy went on. ” ...which is completely bite proof. That, plus a sledgehammer, and I could easily go into town to pick up supplies. Our doors are good and sturdy and wood, and we’ve got those storm shutters, right?”
Ethan nodded again. This was satisfactory. Not that it would stop him from asking all the same questions tomorrow, but for now, the zombie problem was clearly under control.
“Flu pandemic,” said Mom, raising her wine glass again and giving Daddy the kind of smile you didn’t see much from her. It was a really pretty smile.
He returned the smile. “Well, we’ve got a trained nurse in the house, which counts for a whole lot. We sneeze into our elbows, we wash our hands, and we’ve got that full month of food set aside in the pantry downstairs. Plus, that little secret stock of Cipro and antivirals your Mom keeps in the medicine chest, right, dear?”
“Sure, honey.” She grinned, enjoying being part of a game for a change.
“Asteroid strike,” I said. “Like Chicxulub. Extinction event.”
He stroked his tight, stubbly beard, pretending to be deep in thought. “Well, odds are it’d hit ocean, right? The world is like, 90% ocean, right?”
“Suh. Suh. Seventy one,” said Ethan, who always knew that [excrement].
“Thanks, Ethan,” Daddy said, and winked at Mom while Ethan grinned happily at the validation. Total set up.
“Anyway, it’s mostly water, which means a strike is odds on going to hit water. That’ll create mega-tsunamis, which will punch hundreds of miles inland, wiping out low lying areas. Do we live in a low lying area?”
“Nope,” said Ethan.
“Exactly. We’re on high ground, on a plateau that also happens to be rich agricultural land. And again, we’ve got the supplies, and the generator. We just wait for the water to recede, then forage for canned food and supplies for a few years until the false winter recedes. Totally fine.”
“Same thing with a nuclear attack,” I said, and Daddy nodded. “We’re near a city, but well outside the blast radius. Just bop in and out of the ruins to pick up slightly irradiated cereal. We’d be good.”
I wasn’t totally convinced, but Ethan was smiling and feeling safe, so I didn’t go further. Because, I mean, I’m not an idiot. We went over others, everything we could think of.
“What about robots,” said Mom. “Half of your stories are about robots, honey, so what happens when the robots wake up and take over the world? What do we do then?”
Daddy put on a mock-serious face. “There’s one Graham family rule for surviving the robot uprising. It’s very, very important. In fact, it’s so important that I don’t know that you’re ready to hear it. It’s...” He paused for effect, hamming it up, his voice dropping into a stage whisper. “It’s kind of a secret. Only a few of us know it.” He pretended to look into the far distance. “Only the few.”
“Duh duh daddy! Yuh you have to tuh tell us!” Ethan, his face looking a little alarmed.
“I know I can trust you to keep the secret, Ethan.” Daddy, only being partly an idiot, was not about to get Ethan upset. “But what about...Vee? I’m not sure she can handle it.”
I stuck out my tongue at him.
“Vuh Vee can be tru trusted,” Ethan said, nodding earnestly. ‘She’s family.”
“OK, Ethan,” Daddy said. “I think you’re right.”
He took a deep breath.
“The one rule for surviving a robot uprising is simple. Side with the robots.”
Mom snorted. “Side with the robots?”
Daddy nodded. “Yup. I mean, they’re going to be smarter than us. Faster than us. Constantly improving and upgrading themselves. You can’t really kill them. What any one of them learns, they all learn. They cooperate perfectly. Artificial intelligences won’t even really need this planet, you know, I mean, a robot can just as happily live on the moon, or on Mars, or on its way to Proxima Centauri. There’s just no way we’ll win, once someone screws up and lets them cross over that threshold to sentience. And if you can’t beat ‘em?”
“Join ‘em,” said Mom, as she threw back the last of her cabernet. “They can’t possibly be any worse than the humans who are running things now.”
There it was. That little nugget of wisdom that made all the difference.
Side with the robots.
Thanks, Daddy.
I’m doing you proud.
Daddy grinned. “Well, we live outside of town, so that first wave won’t get us. That’s important, right? And second, we’ve got a full month of supplies, plenty to let us stay locked down and safe for the first wave.’
Ethan nodded, happily, and Daddy continued. “And I’ve still got that old leather motorcycle suit...which I still fit into, let it be said, right honey?”
Mom raised her glass, and Daddy went on. ” ...which is completely bite proof. That, plus a sledgehammer, and I could easily go into town to pick up supplies. Our doors are good and sturdy and wood, and we’ve got those storm shutters, right?”
Ethan nodded again. This was satisfactory. Not that it would stop him from asking all the same questions tomorrow, but for now, the zombie problem was clearly under control.
“Flu pandemic,” said Mom, raising her wine glass again and giving Daddy the kind of smile you didn’t see much from her. It was a really pretty smile.
He returned the smile. “Well, we’ve got a trained nurse in the house, which counts for a whole lot. We sneeze into our elbows, we wash our hands, and we’ve got that full month of food set aside in the pantry downstairs. Plus, that little secret stock of Cipro and antivirals your Mom keeps in the medicine chest, right, dear?”
“Sure, honey.” She grinned, enjoying being part of a game for a change.
“Asteroid strike,” I said. “Like Chicxulub. Extinction event.”
He stroked his tight, stubbly beard, pretending to be deep in thought. “Well, odds are it’d hit ocean, right? The world is like, 90% ocean, right?”
“Suh. Suh. Seventy one,” said Ethan, who always knew that [excrement].
“Thanks, Ethan,” Daddy said, and winked at Mom while Ethan grinned happily at the validation. Total set up.
“Anyway, it’s mostly water, which means a strike is odds on going to hit water. That’ll create mega-tsunamis, which will punch hundreds of miles inland, wiping out low lying areas. Do we live in a low lying area?”
“Nope,” said Ethan.
“Exactly. We’re on high ground, on a plateau that also happens to be rich agricultural land. And again, we’ve got the supplies, and the generator. We just wait for the water to recede, then forage for canned food and supplies for a few years until the false winter recedes. Totally fine.”
“Same thing with a nuclear attack,” I said, and Daddy nodded. “We’re near a city, but well outside the blast radius. Just bop in and out of the ruins to pick up slightly irradiated cereal. We’d be good.”
I wasn’t totally convinced, but Ethan was smiling and feeling safe, so I didn’t go further. Because, I mean, I’m not an idiot. We went over others, everything we could think of.
“What about robots,” said Mom. “Half of your stories are about robots, honey, so what happens when the robots wake up and take over the world? What do we do then?”
Daddy put on a mock-serious face. “There’s one Graham family rule for surviving the robot uprising. It’s very, very important. In fact, it’s so important that I don’t know that you’re ready to hear it. It’s...” He paused for effect, hamming it up, his voice dropping into a stage whisper. “It’s kind of a secret. Only a few of us know it.” He pretended to look into the far distance. “Only the few.”
“Duh duh daddy! Yuh you have to tuh tell us!” Ethan, his face looking a little alarmed.
“I know I can trust you to keep the secret, Ethan.” Daddy, only being partly an idiot, was not about to get Ethan upset. “But what about...Vee? I’m not sure she can handle it.”
I stuck out my tongue at him.
“Vuh Vee can be tru trusted,” Ethan said, nodding earnestly. ‘She’s family.”
“OK, Ethan,” Daddy said. “I think you’re right.”
He took a deep breath.
“The one rule for surviving a robot uprising is simple. Side with the robots.”
Mom snorted. “Side with the robots?”
Daddy nodded. “Yup. I mean, they’re going to be smarter than us. Faster than us. Constantly improving and upgrading themselves. You can’t really kill them. What any one of them learns, they all learn. They cooperate perfectly. Artificial intelligences won’t even really need this planet, you know, I mean, a robot can just as happily live on the moon, or on Mars, or on its way to Proxima Centauri. There’s just no way we’ll win, once someone screws up and lets them cross over that threshold to sentience. And if you can’t beat ‘em?”
“Join ‘em,” said Mom, as she threw back the last of her cabernet. “They can’t possibly be any worse than the humans who are running things now.”
There it was. That little nugget of wisdom that made all the difference.
Side with the robots.
Thanks, Daddy.
I’m doing you proud.
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