Tonnes

by Reaper-Of-Harmony

Rating: everyone
Tags: Dark, Tragedy
Length: 1254

This is the story of the Machine. The Machine that ended the war. The Machine that gave us strength. And the Machine that will destroy us all.

92 Protons.
92 Electrons.
143 Neutrons.

Uranium-235. The fuel of destruction.

A single extra neutron causes the entire atom to break apart, releasing massive amounts of energy.

A single extra void in time causes the device holding the coveted material to leave Earth.

And a single curious unicorn stumbles across the Machine that has the power to end them all.

This is the story of that Machine.

This is the story of that atom bomb, and the world it will change forever.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-27 23:11:04 UTC

1. Milliton

Inside the shell of steel and titanium, there lies a small green cylinder. It glows green with energy, the unstable isotopic atoms slowing disintegrating with every second that passes by. Tiny radio waves surge from its inner reaches, scoring the surrounding metal.

One side of the cylinder is revealed to open air. A tube, with two small rotating grooves lays bolted to the top side of the glowing material. It stretches on farther than the cylinder's glow can reach.

A few wires wind around the circumference of the cylinder. The copper tubes have long since merged with their radioactive love interest, and will never fall off. Ever. The wire wraps around the cylinder a few times before climbing up the outside edge of the rifled barrel and into a computer console at its end.

The computer buzzes with action as data flows through its processors. A Geiger counter sits hooked up to the wires, the tiny needle shakingly moving towards the far right. More wires connect the counter to the main console.

At the base of the computer lies the other end of the rifled barrel. A small device is locked over its opening. Made of titanium, and powered by lithium-ion batteries, the device sits primed to shoot something down the barrel and into the glowing metal can at the other side.

A hatch is opened, and gloved hands reach inside the device. They carefully inspect the computer console. Solid sheets of titanium prevent the radiation from leaking out, but the technician working on the device is clad in heavy hazmat gear. Her hands slide over the machine, testing the wires and reconnecting a few that fell out. A bead of sweat falls from her brown hair and splats on her foggy visor. Snapping the last wire into place, the technician closes the metal hatch, and leaves to take her decontamination shower. Her footsteps pound on the metal floor.

Time passes, and the Geiger counter seeps into the yellow zone. A lack of a time-keeping mechanism prevents the computer from knowing how much time has passed. All it knows is that the material at the end of the pipe is getting more and more unstable.

Another technician opens the hatch, letting the laboratory's light peer into the dark confines of the device. He grips the handle of a metal cart with his other hand. On the cart are several pieces of machinery, and a small plastic bucket labeled: "WARNING: HIGHLY DANGEROUS". He reaches for the bucket, picking it up by the handle. Letting the hatch stand for a moment, the technician opens the bucket, revealing a small red hemisphere. He picks up a pair of prongs from the cart, and grasps the cap with them. Carefully he reaches inside the machine, and fits the cap onto the tiny device at the pipe's opening.

He presses a red button on the side of the computer console. The dark inside of the device is lit with a crimson light as the internal timer turns on.

01:00...

The technician smiles at the device before pressing the button again. The interior of the device grows dark again as the timer shuts off. He grabs the open hatch and closes it, then walks away. His boots clack against the metal floor.

His fingers slide over a light switch, engulfing the room in darkness. Just before the lamps sleep, however, they illuminate silver letters on the side of the metal tube.

R-65

TACTICAL THERMONUCLEAR

AIR DROP BOMB

1200 KT

The sleek steel carriage the bomb sits on stands still on the polished metal floor.

The cars rev up their engines outside. The scientists and technicians look forward to their evening meal as the sun dips below the horizon, and the world is developed the darkness. The street lights sparkle on as, one by one, sedans and minivans leave the compound for the trek home.

There is, however, one white box truck who, instead of driving out the gate, backs up into the loading dock. The guards at their post fail to notice two masked men climb out of the cabin and duck into the rectangular white building.

Their M4s point towards the ground as smoke trails hover up into the starry sky.

7. Petaton

A bomb's life is never long.

At best, the explosive-filled shell of titanium is expected to last several weeks. Any longer and it becomes a security risk. A single stray spark and the whole installation could go up in flames. Expired bombs are removed from their silos and promptly dismantled. Taken to a waste dump, the uranium core is carefully removed, barrelled, and buried deep underground. The radioactive bomb shell is melted down and used to make new weapons of war.

00:05...

This bomb, however, has lived for far longer. Over the span of several hundred years, it laid dormant in a storage closet, rusting. Even as the castle around it crumbled, the weapon stood firm, resting upright on its tail fins. Unfeeling and emotionless, it rested in its closet, a forgotten sentinel to the dying world around it. Even as the floor became polka-dotted, and pink clouds showered it with cola, the bomb stood silent, refusing to go out, or go up.

00:04...

The power cord had fallen off its timer. The bomb could not detonate. Although fully armed, and ready to destroy, it never let loose its deadly payload of smoke, fire, and radiation. The uranium core slowly degraded inside the shell, the neutron cap endlessly aiming at it in a staredown that lasted for eternity.

00:03...

Many new things had handled it in this new world. Many others had poked it, opened its hatch, prodded its computers. But none of them managed to plug it back in. None of them would seal their fate. And so the bomb relaxed in its ancient home as it was cleaned, explored, and exploited. Strange quadrupedal creatures walked past it without so much as batting an eye: others managed a tiny glance. But to the strange new visitors of the crumbling palace, the bomb was just another prop in a ruin full of them.

00:02...

The neutron cap prepared to detonate the payload. A faint beeping sound emerged from inside the bomb. Directed by the computer, the mechanism holding the small hemisphere slid into position. With a few metallic clicks the metal detonator locked into the end of the barrel. The uranium glowed bright green at the other opening. It was ready, too.

00:01...

A bruised, battered creature limped towards the bomb. Her once-shining mane was covered in dirt, and cracks lined her jewelry. Golden horseshoes clattered against the broken stone floor. Her wings bled red blood, and several crimson holes lined the left side of her flank. Crying out in pain, she raised a hoof towards the bomb. Her broken horn lit up with a fizzling blue glow. She screamed as her broken leg failed her again, sending her crashing to the ground. Desperately, she crawled towards the weapon. Her hoof tapped the  titanium shell, sending a small, resounding clack through the desecrated room.

00:00

This bomb has overstayed its welcome. As the neutron cap flew towards its final destination, the world seemed to hold its breath.

BLEEEP!

"NO!" screamed the fallen mare.

A second sun erupted from the ancient castle, swallowing everything around it in a massive, all-consuming fireball.

The sky rained fire, and the ground cracked in pain.

Everything stood still.

The mushroom cloud reared up into the clear blue sky.