Free DRONES (SPECTRAL FUTURES) by Olsen J. Nelson Page B

the screen, focusing in on the milliseconds rolling impatiently down from 2.2 seconds — just enough time for the operator to take in a deep breath before her screen goes blank.
    Kacey disconnects abruptly from the operator unit, freeing her hands and feet from the gloves and boots that guide the robot’s actions. She steps out of the round framework and pulls off her helmet, which houses the deactivated semi-circular display screen. She hangs the helmet on its hook and walks towards the door, which slides open, allowing her to exit without looking back at the other operators still in the process of disconnecting. The door closes smoothly after her.
    Meanwhile, on one of the external monitors by her operator unit, satellite footage displays the scene she’s left behind nearly two hundred miles away from the operational hub of a department of the Regional Remote-Security Division: the initial explosion created by the explosives in the barrels rips the front section of the roof off the house and blows the room’s walls out, sending debris hurtling into the air and the immediate neighbours’ properties; following this, a series of ten sets of ten mini rockets launch out of the silo and extend high up into the air in concentric arcs that spread out across the neighbourhood, eventually covering three-point-two blocks; the rockets descend in timed unison, soon reaching their targets; the conventional and incendiary explosives contained in each rocket detonate, forcing entry into and completely engulfing fifty-four houses and their properties in a fiery inferno.
    The available fuel is aggressively consumed by the blaze as the awaiting squadron of remotely controlled helicopters proceed to dump payloads of fire retardant around the perimeter in order to prevent the disaster from spreading any further. The affected area is left to be dealt with by the second squadron that’s already on its way. By the time it arrives, however, extinguishing what remains will be too little too late: most of the inflammable material will already have been burnt beyond recognition or repair, and only those inhabitants in the rare hermetically sealed safety rooms and basements will have survived unscathed, typically only four percent of those caught in such blazes in middle-class suburbs of the kind targeted.
     
    Just after sunset, sitting in her car, she flicks through case files on her tablet connected to the office’s investigation database. She looks up casually, lost in thought, as the car glides quietly through the driverless vehicle network.
    She glances without interest at several cars passing through the busy intersection they’re approaching, and she tracks one that passes in front of her own, only avoiding a collision by inches, both cars having already adjusted their speed in the moments of coordination in the predictive window leading to their interaction in the middle of the intersection. She turns her head back to her tablet, ignoring several other cars darting around them in similar circumstances.
    The car continues down the hill and turns left into a quiet suburb, winding its way through the empty streets before slowing to a crawl while a security gate slightly ahead draws back completely behind the front wall, allowing her car to turn into the driveway and enter unimpeded.
    Kacey looks into the rear-view mirror and watches the gate close smoothly, shutting out the outside world inch by inch. The car door slides open. She gets out and walks to the front door.
    Standing on the front veranda, she looks out at the horizon beyond and examines the hues of the sunset as the sky darkens gradually all around. She turns and heads inside.
    She walks down the hallway and glances at a bedroom door as she passes by it. She stops, turns back towards it, and places her hand on the door knob momentarily before opening it slowly and forcing a slight smile as she enters.
    Emma jumps off the bed. “Mum! You need to read the book to me.”
    Kacey