“Talk about terrorists,” Dolan quipped. “This one doesn’t want you to believe in his God. He wants to be your god.”
“I’m less concerned about his motivations, HAL2’s existential ruminations as it were, than I am with his destructive capabilities and ongoing threat to this nation’s security,” said Pancetta. He brought his fingertips together in a kind of tent under his chin. “How do we kill him, that’s the question? We can’t blow up every PC, every server and every mainframe computer on the planet at once. Nor can we simply cut all the lines in-between them. It’s simply not physically possible. So, how can we—”
“Starfish Prime,” Lulu said. She looked frightfully young next to the seasoned counselors and military brass at the table, thought Decker. The neon purple hue of her spiky black hair appeared painfully obvious now.
“What? What’s Starfish Prime?” asked the Defense Secretary. “Stand up, please, so we can hear you.” His hairy eyebrows danced behind the thick black plastic frames of his eyeglasses.
“Of course,” said one of the NSA science advisers on the opposite side the room. “HEMP, right?”
“Exactly,” said Lulu, as she climbed to her feet. “HEMP.”
“What do you mean, hemp?” asked Chief of Staff Lamb. It was as if the Secret Service had uncovered a young staff member smoking pot on the roof of the White House. He looked suddenly worried.
“High altitude Electro-Magnetic Pulse, HEMP,” Lulu continued. “In July, 1962, a 1.4 megaton bomb was intentionally exploded in space during a nuclear test four hundred kilometers above the Pacific. One of the unforeseen outcomes of the test, code named Starfish Prime, was the electrical damage it caused in Hawaii some 1,445 kilometers from the detonation point, knocking out three hundred streetlights, setting off numerous burglar alarms and damaging a Telco microwave link. Starfish Prime was the first in a series of high-altitude nuclear tests in 1962 known as Operation Fishbowl. Subsequent tests gathered more data on HEMP phenomenon and what we learned was terrifying.”
“Terrifying? Define terrifying,” said Homeland Security Director Pignateli.
“The damage caused by the Starfish Prime test was quickly repaired because of the relative simplicity and ruggedness of the electrical infrastructure in Hawaii at the time. But, if the Starfish Prime warhead had been detonated over the northern continental U.S., where the Earth’s magnetic field is much stronger, the magnitude of the devastation would have been significantly greater. Taking this into account and factoring in our dependence today on EMP-sensitive microelectronics, it is theoretically possible that a series of HEMP warheads, exploded simultaneously in multiple strategic locations throughout the globe could — again, in theory — blow out the electronic and electrical systems supporting the Net.”
“That’s a lot of ifs, ands and buts,” said the President.
“I know,” Lulu answered, sitting down.
“Again, Mister President,” began Woodcock, “I protest that we’re rushing into this thing without fully appreciating—”
“Your objection is duly noted, Doctor Woodcock,” said the President. “How bad would the collateral damage be? I mean, how long before we could repair the damage to the electrical grid and get things back to normal?”
The President was looking directly at Lulu. She seemed reluctant to answer. “Normal?” She stood up again. “I’m afraid this is going to alter our world in ways we can’t even imagine,” she said. “In 1962, the Soviets conducted a series of similar EMP nuclear tests in space over Kazakhstan. The blasts occurred over industrialized urban areas and the resulting damage was catastrophic. Just to highlight a single event, the geomagnetic storm caused by the E3 pulse induced an electrical surge in an underground power line that caused a fire in a power plant in the city of Karaganda hundreds of miles away.”
“How do you happen to know all of this?” asked the President.
Lulu looked over at General Darius. “A year or so ago, I was commissioned to do some research to determine our ability to knock out the digital and electrical infrastructure of enemy nations, including C3—Command, Control and Communications — centers in a pre-emptive attack prior to a conventional or nuclear strike.”
“I see. Was there other damage?”
“Sir, the bottom line is that if we want to be sure about killing HAL2, we’re going to have to knock out these systems permanently, fry them, render them pretty much useless. In other words, when it’s over, we’ll have to replace them, not fix them. And I’m afraid we don’t happen to have this kind of critical infrastructure just lying around. It’ll probably take more than two years to build some of the larger and more complex pieces of specialized equipment — like custom power turbines, for example — let alone put them in place.”
“It will be like going back to the dark ages,” said Woodcock. “Is that what you want, Mister President? For us to be living in caves once again, with no heat and no electricity? Do you really want to be remembered as the President who ordered the deployment of nuclear weapons over American soil?”
“Well, not exactly caves,” said Pignateli. The Director of Homeland Security shrugged and looked up from a pad she’d been scribbling on. “By my calculations, more like the eighteenth century. And then only for a couple of years — until the rebuilding of the infrastructure. Two to three years at most, at least in the industrialized world.”
To complicate matters, added the Secretary of Defense, their armed forces, and those of their allies worldwide, wouldn’t be able to coordinate their preparations or communicate with each other in the traditional manner since essentially all communications systems were now IP-based. They’d have to do it by paper and runner. By hand. And they’d somehow have to lock out each missile silo and bomber from central command. From all contact. Otherwise HAL2 would prevent the rockets from firing. Or, worse, target other locations, like cities, and detonate them close to the ground.
Everyone turned toward the President. He looked about at his senior advisers, staring deep in their eyes, one after the other. He looked over at Decker and Lulu and smiled. “Thank you very much for your helpful analysis. Your country owes you both a great debt of gratitude. Again, I suppose, in your case, Special Agent Decker. This is getting to be a habit.”
“Does that mean, Mister President, that…” Jack Lamb’s voice trailed off. He looked down at the table as the President raised his right hand.
“Speaking of habits, you all know that my youngest daughter has a sweet tooth. If she had her way, she’d be sneaking candies all day but I keep her from them because, well, you know… candy just isn’t good for her. Like other habits,” he added, poking fun at his own lingering addictions. “You have to set limits with kids. They need them to understand their place in the world. Without boundaries, if you don’t say no, at least once in a while, pretty soon they’re taking a hell of a lot more than your candy from you. They end up greedy, self-indulgent and selfish, uncaring of others. And when you couple that with absolute power…” The President looked over at his Chief of Staff. “Yes, Jack, I’ve decided. HAL2. We’re taking him out.” Then his voice fell to a whisper. “Before he grows up and decides to do the same thing to us.”