Gunpowder

The sun was beginning to set by the time they returned home. Poppy had fallen asleep and ended up leaning on Axis, snoring quietly. They had headed for home after that, and both had retired to their beds.

When the sun came up, Axis woke up along with it. It was her first day back at work after she had moved houses. She quickly put on her uniform, including her armor, waved her roommate goodbye, and set off.

Poppy was still asleep when all this happened, but took it as a wake up call. She got dressed in a loose T-shirt and sweater and made herself a small breakfast that consisted of a single piece of untoasted bread. Despite being a technician, she had no idea how to work the toaster that the home was equipped with. It was too advanced for her, which sounded dumb, but was the truth. It had an array of unlabeled buttons and switches that probably could have set something on fire if she was not careful. She instead opted to simply eat the bread raw. It was the first time she had eaten such a food in a while, as she normally ate simple rations made of nonperishable such as soup and jerky, but it was a nice change of pace. It didn’t hurt her throat to eat it as well, so that was a bonus.

The house felt slightly off to Poppy now that she was alone in it. It suddenly felt bigger and colder, and of course more scary for her. She found herself walking around with the bed-sheet draped over her shoulders simply to keep out the chill.

She found herself thinking back to the animal she had visited the previous afternoon. When she had been stationed at a research and development center, cats were often used to test the effects of chemical and biological warfare. That was all she had thought of them as back then: lab rats. But she thought differently now. They were sweet and soft and very cuddly. Such an animal was no lab rat or even had the slightest hind of being one of them in their blood. They were soft and she loved them and hoped no one ever did the same horrible things that she had done to them.

After she had finished her meager, yet satisfying, morning meal, the woman started to explore the house in more detail. The downstairs had a large sitting room that she had only gotten a glimpse of before. It was equipped with two couches and a television, as well as some blankets that were folded up in one corner. There were three windows on one of the walls, shining three identical spots of light onto the nice white shaggy carpeting underfoot. It was all surprisingly clean and untouched, a nice place to just hang out.

Outside was another place she hadn’t explored either. The house had a small patio that led out to a short wooden deck. Sprawling from behind this deck was a large backyard, fenced in with a pretty white picket fence. She had decided not to explore the green expanse, however, as she didn’t feel comfortable leaving the home alone.

Instead, she retired back to her room and got on her computer. She had discovered quite the wonderful website on a former night. It was called Read It, and seemed to be a chat-room of some kind. Besides the chatting element, it also hosted a large array of articles and discussion posts about all manner of things. They were each categorized into communities, which seemed to be groupings of chats and posts that were all about a certain topic. The community that interested her the most was the one simply labeled ‘Technology.’ It not only had blueprints of several of the machines that she had seen around, but also had posts that were used by large numbers of people to discuss the creation of their own inventions. People helped each other with mechanical problems and circuit failures which were hindering their device’s ability to function, and seemed to chat like old friends. The inventions made by users were all very interesting to her as well. They varied greatly, from cleaning implements to drones, the site seemed to have it all. She attempted to post something herself, hoping that such a thing wouldn’t be outside her boundaries as a... guest of Kawden, but the site prompted her to create an account before doing so. She signed up for the website, not seeing what harm it could do, and created an alias for herself, “gadgetcat,” which was one of the names that could be randomly generated through some kind of algorithm. She created a post introducing herself, though she didn’t say her name or any other real information about herself. She simply stated that she was a technician who was new to the website and found technology to be very interesting. She got an automated response almost instantly which read, “Welcome to the Technology community on Read It, we hope you have a nice time.” It made Poppy smile. She felt accepted somehow.

After that little fonder, she explored what else the site had to offer, and eventually came upon a smaller community, only housing 36 members, which was labeled, “Ex-Loyals.” It seemed innocent enough at first, but the more she scrolled down, the more cryptic the messages got. Some were written entirely in a type of code, which resembled binary code of some kind. She couldn’t translate any of it; It seemed to be it’s own language in some way. It made her very nervous, but it also made her very curious. After a bit of searching, she found that the code was binary, but a cipher of it. A simple website, put together by some generous codebreaker, was all she needed to decipher the code. But what she found was a little unnerving.

The first post she translated was the first post on the community, which seemed to be a type of introduction. It read:

“Welcome. I see you’ve taken a little folly into the depths of this here site. That is, assuming you’re a guest here. If not, welcome. We have much to discuss. If you aren’t meant to be here, leave. This is a party and you are not invited. Still, good job on breaking our code.

Sincerely,

Ecto.”

Reading it sent shivers down Poppy’s spine, and she had to look behind her, just to make sure that feeling of being watched was only a feeling and nothing more. She shook it off, too curious to heed the post’s advice, and scrolled to the following post. It seemed to be by a different member, going under a different codename. This one read:

“Good morning and good evening and goodnight my lovely readers! Welcome to the Ex-Loyal community, the hub for all ex-loyals to communicate. Enjoy your stay, whether it be brief or not. And remember our code.

Sincerely,

Tentacle.”

This message seemed more sincere, and the codename of this member even made Poppy laugh a bit. Maybe the introduction had just been made by a guy on a bad day. This slight reassurance made her want to explore more, and so she did. The next posts read as follows:

“1-2-3, testing. We are live today on this fine community, and our user-base is more than lively. Now, we all now why we’re here, so let us cut to the chase. Our plan will go as follows, and don’t none of you screw it up. We’ve put too much time into this.

Ecto

Arig

Tech

Seer

It is short but it is not the end. We will all leave. We will not stay. We are not cattle. We are warriors!

Not sincerely,

Scabbard”

“The plan was a success, and we are dogs on the run. We are home, safe, and useful. I will no longer lead you, I will have no time. I must serve our leaders, good day and good bye.

In a better place,

Ecto.”

“After Ecto’s escape, I will be taking over. Let us cut to the chase as soon as possible, if we didn’t this would be no more than useless lollygagging. The plan goes as follows:

Tentacle

Dent

Papillion

Bell

Best wishes,

Scabbard.”

The posts scrawled on with the same pattern. A user would announce a plan, the past leader would “leave” as part of said plan, and the poster would become the new leader until a new user posted their name. It was quite scary how many users there seemed to be. Thirty-six was only the number of active users, there seemed to be far more that had once used the community. It gave her the creeps, and she eventually forced herself to click out of it and go to a different community, this one named “Awww,” It was very pleasant, and a nice break from the fearful things Poppy had just witnessed.

“Awww” was a community completely dedicated to pictures of small animals just, being cute. Some were curled up into little balls, asleep, some were chasing little laser pointers, and some were simply staring at the camera with wide, irresistible puppy eyes. Still, the images of fluffy cats and dogs could not fully distract the techie from what she had read earlier. What could escape mean? What did they mean by ‘cattle’ and ‘dogs on the run.’ And, the one at the forefront of her mind, what could it mean that they were “in a better place?”

Her mind immediately jumped to the worst possible idea. She imagined the community being some sort of ongoing suicide pact, where those who used to be under the rule of the new world order killed themselves as some sort of “plan.” It was terrible, but not inconceivable. She shuttered at the very notion of it, but something compelled her to go back to the community. And what she had found was the scariest thing yet.

“Many, so many, we live to serve. Many, so many, and the names of those holy are as follows:

Beetle

Delta

Alpha

Epsilon

Alexander

Dena

Echo

Agra

Sprite

Tbbae

And many more. Many, many more. Too many to name, too many to count. We are not cattle, we are dogs. Dogs on the run, dogs on the run. We are on the run and we will go to the promised land together. We will find more, kill more, end more, be strong. They run amok, the rats. Find them, slay them, be strong. Dogs we are, dogs on the run! Strike them down with the lightning from your claws and show them that they are ants and you are gods. Strike, strike them down my pack, my dogs! Strike the cats down with your jaws and run into the night! One on one, two on one, fight!

Sincerely,

Pack Leader,

Garden.”

The user’s grammar may have been good, but they did not seem to be right in the head. This new post gave Poppy a whole new slew of things to worry and wonder about. What did they mean by strike down? Who were the cats, some kind of rival gang? She wondered if it could be a cult of some kind, basing this assumption on the fact that the writer referred to their readers as ‘gods.’ And who were the rats? Too much to wonder, too much to think about. It hurt her head.

But she couldn’t stop reading. She kept going and going and going, finding the same pattern and watching it repeat over and over again. She counted every single name mentioned, and the number added up to three hundred and seventy seven. Three hundred and seventy seven members of this cult, or suicide pact, or whatever it was. All of them ex-loyals, all of them trying to “escape” and all of them trying to kill the “cats” and the “rats” and whoever. Poppy gulped and keep scrolling.

“A new member, to stay for generations. New, not all, and all knowing, the god. I know all, I know them and I know you. I am our eyes in the past, eyes in the sky. I am our eyes and I know all. I know where the cats hide and lick their fur. I know where the rats scuttle. I know all, and the best of it is their trust. They see me as harmless, a sheep in the flock, they do not know that beneath that wool is a dog. I will eat them and gobble them and kill the rats and the cats and the mice, and they will not know. And I will reign supreme and I am your god. A dog among sheet and rats and cats and mice.

I am Tbbae.”

Poppy pulled the bed-sheet she wore over her onto her neck, shivering slightly. She knew she had to click away, but couldn’t she knew she had to keep reading, but why? She couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason. She had heard that “curiosity killed the cat,” but she had dodged death enough times that it hardly scared her. She kept scrolling, and each post got scarier. People bragged about how they were god, and how they killed hundreds of cats and rats and mice under their feet. But the cycle still continued, with people “escaping” and new leaders rising to the top. They only seemed to grow less sane with every keystroke.

Then she remembered the chat-room that every community had. She opened it up, all hesitation gone, and found it quite empty.

Except for one message:

“Cat.”