Scott Demonea

The Conspiracy
1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-3-7597-0971-4
Verlag: BoD - Books on Demand
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 312 Seiten

Fear - Despair - Conspiracy In the early 22nd century, mining on asteroids is an important economic sector. But when a disturbing image appears on the net, terrifying people, the hunt for the mystery behind it begins. Conspiracies and pirates make the search dangerous and unpredictable. One reporter has his own plans. He comes into conflict with a power that takes no prisoners. Can the Foundation's SPACE PATROL UNIT, an organization for the protection of mining bases in space, prevent a catastrophe?

The rapid development of AI-based applications has encouraged me, as a computer scientist, to explore this topic. What inspires our thoughts today could be a reality tomorrow.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Scott, David

Leseproben

Chapter 1

Someone must have covered it up, but no one felt guilty that countless meteorites were hitting the Earth without warning. Those in charge still downplayed the situation, while social networks were full of reports of injured people.

Conspiracy theorists proclaimed the end of the world, others believed in an alien invasion, until ... unknown people posted the picture of the day. The media fanned the flames and did not rule out a serious threat to the Earth. Was the 22nd century about to begin with an unprecedented catastrophe?

In Washington, hundreds of people gathered daily in front of the White House to loudly express their displeasure at the lack of an official statement from the government. When the MNC-TV broadcast van arrived at the White House that day, protesters were already holding banners with their demands. Dian Hunting, the well-known media icon with the microphone in her hand, took a deep breath. She tidied her hair, checked her outfit, and stood up straight. Dian was well aware that there was nothing like a mysterious threat to keep people in suspense. What happened in the last few days promised to be the story of the year.

"Briefing!" That was the signal to her assistants. "I don't want any surprises, ... girls." All three assistants nodded eagerly to avoid any displeasure. Dian Hunting took one last look around before the moment arrived when she opened the car door and stepped onto the stage, her media throne, the mouthpiece of public opinion. The assistant, Redge, was new to the team. He stood at her side with a video camera over his shoulder, ready to record everything.

The mood of the demonstrators became more tense by the minute. The first demonstrators in the crowd immediately recognized their idol. They shouted her name. Dian! Dian! More and more people gathered around the media icon like bees around their queen. Now! This was her moment to take center stage. Dian Hunting, microphone in hand, raised her arm demonstratively and looked up to the sky, a symbolic gesture that everyone understood. There was a moment of expectant silence. It was the perfect moment for Dian to put her anxious face to the camera, fearless, giving herself up to the excited crowd.

"Good morning, dear viewers. I'm Dian Hunting reporting for MNC-TV. We're standing here in front of the White House, surrounded by many frightened citizens demanding answers from the government." Dian! Dian! ... The government must tell us the truth. The demonstrators shouted slogans. In the background, banners were once again being held aloft. The encircled Dian glanced at her assistant, Dan. He watched an attractive redhead with rapt attention. "Dan!" What is this fool doing? But the voices of the bystanders drowned out her call. Damn it!

Redge, the camera assistant, gave Dian a hand signal. She pointed her microphone at a crying woman who was shaking and putting a hand to her mouth, as more protesters surrounded Dian. Redge zoomed in on the woman's crying face so that everyone could see the tears on her face.

"Mrs! What are you so afraid of?" Dian asked sympathetically.

"Mrs Hunting," the young woman sobbed, touching Dian's free hand. "I don't want to die!"

An older man pushed his way forward.

"And you, sir? I am sure. You're a pensioner? I can see the anger in your eyes."

"That’s right, Mrs Hunting. Make our voices heard up there. A meteorite fell in my yard yesterday. It could have been my wife or the grandchildren. Our dog wasn't so lucky. It was a terrible sight. Believe me." The old man's sad words moved the surrounding crowd. Dian patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Sir. I can understand you very well."

Assistant Henry had just let the mini drone take off ... Then it happened. The unbelievable happened. A loud bang, perhaps a few kilometers away, followed by a dark cloud of smoke rising into the blue sky, made everyone stop in fear. Anxiety spread among the demonstrators like an ocean swell rolling inexorably toward the shore.

Suddenly! Someone held up a smartphone and shouted excitedly: "Meteorites." The first sirens wailed in the distance. People began to push. Others screamed, stumbled, and fell. From one second to the next, everyone ran away screaming in panic.

Motionless and with her mouth open, Dian suddenly stood alone on the deserted street. Only the banners left behind bore witness to the demonstration. Time seemed to have frozen. Only the clacking sound of the microphone hitting the pavement brought her back to reality. The MNC-TV team was treated to a sight they would not soon forget. The shock was still in Dian's bones as she picked up her microphone from the sidewalk. Assistant Redge, also surprised, bravely kept his camera on Dian. She didn't need to act to look shocked. There was a slight tremor in her voice at the next words.

"Dear viewers, we do not know what has just happened. But the situation speaks for itself. We had reported live from the demonstration in front of the White House, which came to an unexpected and sudden end. Stay with us. MNC-TV will keep you up to date with the latest happenings. I'm Dian Hunting and I’m reporting for MNC-TV." Dian gave assistant Redge a hand signal to stop the recording. She had to take several deep breaths to calm herself down.

"Dan!" Damn it! The reporter was nowhere to be seen. Assistant Henry was still holding the mini drone with which he had the presence of mind to film the incident from the air. God bless this invention, Dian thought to herself before getting into the broadcast van.

"Pack up," she ordered everyone. "Can't this go any faster?" That too! Her hands searched through all the pockets of the pantsuit. Moments of shock made her pale ... "My smartphone," Dian exclaimed excitedly. She desperately needed to contact someone from the Late-Night show! Reporter Dan Henning, who was coordinating the final settings for the live broadcast in the van at the video terminal, stared in horror at the video images captured by the mini drone.

"Oh my God," he muttered more to himself, then softly the word déjà vu, as Dian leaned down to him.

"My smartphone! Dan, where is it?"

"I, ... I don't know, boss. It was still there just now." Confused, he looked into Dian's eyes, which narrowed to small slits. He could literally feel the irritation in Dian's face.

"I don't believe this, Dan!" Her flat hand slapped the back of his car seat several times. "Save the déjà vu for Monday's Mystery show!"

Cameraman Redge whispered with curly-haired blonde Henry, whose strong hands clutched the digital control panel of the broadcast van expectantly. Dian Hunting, the Huntress before the Lord, suddenly felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins and sat down in her car seat. What a day, Dian thought.

"Henry, what are you waiting for? Get going!" The words sounded so harsh that Henry didn't think twice and stepped on the gas pedal. "The front is waiting for us!" shouted Dian, feeling like Joan of Arc.

Reporter Dan got goose bumps. He could already see his body falling into the dark abyss.

"Dian!" he tried to object uncertainly. "I have such a bad feeling."

"This isn't a discussion group, Dan!" The rising heat made Dian breath heavily. Annoyed, her hand tried to undo the zipper of the blazer, which of course got caught in her new silk blouse. But no matter! Her hand gripped Dan's upper arm tightly. "Not another word! Want to be a good reporter? Your attitude annoys me!" Jesus! Dian in her car seat tightened her seat belt. What had she done to deserve this reporter? He was a disgrace to the entire guild.

Dan saw his ego crushed on the floor, humiliated, especially in front of Redge, the cheeky new guy who had just given Henry a meaningful look. Dian was sweating with excitement and hastily checking her makeup to look perfect for the story of the day, while Dan felt like he was staring death in the face. It didn't seem to be his day.

The MNC-TV team did not return to the large media group's editorial offices until late in the evening. Everyone had to cope a hard day's work with horrible images. But there were editorial tasks that could not be postponed. Tired, Dan entered the floor where the MNC-TV staff's open-plan office was located. The double-leaf glass door labeled MNC-TV opened in front of him. The electric door drive had been making a loud grinding noise for days. Annoyed, Dan wished the repairman, for whom everyone had been waiting in vain for days, at hell.

The room, bathed in dim light, greeted him with the usual office sounds of the late shift. To his left were two gesticulating colleagues, apparently deep in conversation.

"Hi guys." One of them raised his hand briefly in greeting. But he didn't look over at him. Reporter Dan just wanted to get to his desk, which was waiting for him at the end of the 500-square meter office. A beeping female voice softly reached his right ear.

"Hi, Dan. You are a little late today." Berte looked up briefly before her artificial fingernails returned to tormenting the innocent keyboard. The clicking tore at his nerves.

"Hi Berte. Still industrious?" Shy as Berte was, she only answered with a quiet giggle.

The walk to workplace today seemed endless to him. His tired feet shuffled past several unoccupied workstations. Further back, a coffee machine was bubbling. The muffled sound of a cupboard door slamming, the clatter of dishes ... Three more meters. Dan was almost home, if you wanted to name the workplace by the window, where a cactus waited lonely on the windowsill.

I’m home,...