Book 1: Jake Earth’s Transmission
It was a long and hopeless battle. Great captains and generals of men fought a terrible shadow and blight on the Earth. Nations across continents were united in this unbearable state of collective fear and dismay, though neighbors turned against one another, and treason was rampant. Who could truly aid the enemy His cause, referred to as He though their leader was undoubtedly female in the fashion of the arachnid and insectoid monsters that swarm our planet? But the answer was many. Sibling betrayed sibling and parents slaughtered children who refused to embrace their dismal outlook and subservience to petty promise and bribe. Murderers.
It was the other citizens of these countries who fought this dire conflict, briefly thought a war, finally a battle. Great Spirited contingencies of humans formed, but beaten back, their leadership lay hidden, moving constantly, and there was maybe none among them who could see a favorable outcome of this decisive contest. But this did not break our resolve to survive, to seek vengeance, and die to the last man, woman, and child.
Human history had ended. There could be nothing after this that was not determined in reaction to the Dark Force, the Terror, the Black Despair. The Black Hope was ever present. Our history was now Mimik history. The Mimik race had surrendered entirely. They were somewhere between a hive and individuals, their Queen a vassal of the Terror. His Darkness. Every existing or extinct religious dark entity. Many names were given that place, that feeling. It had become the soul of the Mimik, and if in the beginning they perhaps hadn’t welcomed it, that was irrelevant in our hate for them now. The Mimiks looked like we do. Our brothers and sisters who succumbed to and embraced The Horror were still different, human and rotten. If they sought to become Mimiks they were mortals next to angels.
A Mimik looked just like you, whoever you were. Or someone you loved dearly. Sometimes they picked the perfect person to get under your skin. There were males and females of every malicious personality. The Queen was all of them and none of them. She hunted us in our dreams and every waking instant; she chased us up stairs, she was behind our reflections. She was Him. As much of Him as we dared guess from the Dark Force of his creation, that black ooz of a life blood such as lies sodden in undead corpses, in betrayers, and Mimiks.
I was afraid of connected machines, constructed intelligences, corporate entities, and strep throat. Spooky things had happened in the Mars colonies. All offspring of our planet. Competing partitions of Earth. Humans fought the ocean, fought the land, fought each other, spread, destroyed, and created. Computers farmed us, dependent on our harvest. Corporate forces organized and governed us. It was our story then. The Day the Sun Didn’t Rise changed everything. If the earth was flat or round, it didn’t matter. We had our own battle to sort out, but then we got hit.