Level 7

JUNE 9

It happened this morning.

I started my spell of duty in the PBX Operations Room at 08.00 hours. At 09.00 the yellow light came on above the screen. Two minutes later X-117 walked into the room and took his place at the other table, ready for whatever might follow the yellow warning. The Operations Room was now prepared for action. We sat in silence, watching the light.

At 09.12 hours the functional loudspeaker in the room suddenly ordered: “Attention! Prepare for action!” Simultaneously, the yellow light was replaced by a red one.

The loudspeaker spoke again: “Push Button A1!”

I pressed the button, and X-117 must have pushed his too, for Zone A on the screen suddenly became covered with red points. This meant that the one-to-five megaton rockets had been released and were now flying with incredible speed towards their targets. Zone A being relatively near, the results were to be expected in less than half an hour.

I was sitting in my place watching the screen. I was more tense than usual, but I did not feel nervous. Perhaps because of the treatment I underwent last week. Perhaps because military action—for the first time I was doing what I had come down here to do—acted as a sort of relief.

I glanced across the room at X-117, and I thought he looked very much on edge. Though the room was at a comfortable temperature, his face was sweating profusely, as if he had been pushing not a button but the rockets themselves.

Then I turned my eyes back to the screen, and sat speculating as to whether it would all amount to no more than an exchange of smallish bombs limited to one area, or whether the operation would develop into full-scale hostilities.

At 09.32 hours the first rocket hit enemy territory and one of the red spots turned into a rather larger circular red blob. Almost at once more such blobs appeared here and there over Zone A. I saw how the area of destruction grew wider and wider.

Meanwhile, though, some of the little red spots were disappearing, particularly the ones deeper in Zone A. Apparently the enemy’s interceptors were quite efficient.

Then, at 09.55, the loudspeaker sounded again: “Attention! Push Button A2!” And immediately afterwards: “Push Button A3!”

I reached quickly, and so did X-117, and the loudspeaker had hardly finished before Zone A became covered with a mass of blue and golden points.

Aesthetically the picture was quite pleasing. Red blobs and blue and yellow spots, some on the red blobs and some outside them. But the colour was still restricted to Zone A. The other zones remained white, like a continent waiting for an explorer to map it.

I wondered what impression the news would make on P. Also on other people who would meet me in the lounge and ask me about it all. I thought about this, that and the other—like during a concert, when one’s thoughts wander far away from the music.

At 10.10 came the next order from the loudspeaker: “Push Button B1, push Button B2, push Button B3, push Button C1!”

We pushed four times. Now all the map was unevenly spotted with points in three colours.

Five minutes later the blue and yellow spots in Zone A started to change into circular blots. The blue ones were particularly big: these indicated the destruction resulting from the blast and heat of multi-megaton bombs which were bursting in the air to cause very widespread damage. Areas ranging from hundreds to thousands of square miles were being wiped out.

It was obvious from the screen that this bombing was proving much more effective than the first lot. Perhaps the enemy was running short of interceptors, or else our A2 and A3 missiles were fitted with some anti-interceptor device which the A1 rockets did not possess. Whatever the explanation, the blue and golden circles were steadily obliterating Zone A, and soon the red circles looked almost insignificant. There were very few of them which were not surrounded by circles of yellow or blue. The blue was steadily spreading over the zone, with smaller golden and red blobs superimposed like stars in a night sky.

At 10.40 the dots on Zone B started their metamorphosis into circles. This time the process was different, for red, blue and yellow circles appeared simultaneously. They were all there competing for space.

The coloured ‘exploration’ progressed into the heart of Zone B almost unchecked. Apparently there were no more obstacles in the way of our missiles. The ‘terra incognita’ of the map was rapidly becoming nicely tinted. It looked as though the final picture would be much like that in Zone A, with blue covering most of the ground and yellow and red superimposed on it in smaller areas.

The spots started to spread in Zone C at 10.55. This time there were only red ones, so the process could be seen more clearly.

But there appeared to be some trouble, for a large number of the spots disappeared, meaning that the missiles had not found their marks. Either the enemy had some defensive counter-measures in Zone C, or else our rockets were simply failing to reach there. Perhaps it was the greater range that was the difficulty. Certainly something had gone wrong.

At 11.00 hours we received another order, from a different voice this time: “Press Button C2, press Button C3!”

We pushed and waited again.

There were only three buttons left unpushed—the supposedly most dangerous ones, which controlled the batteries of ‘rigged’ bombs. Their radioactivity would make the areas they hit uninhabitable not just in the immediate future but for years to come. Perhaps for generations.

It had always been doubted whether these bombs would be used at all, for in all probability their effect would not be limited to the territory directly hit but would also spread to neighbouring countries. And there were no grounds for annihilating neutrals. Even more to the point, these bombs might endanger our own existence. No country wants a suicidal war!

“Or does it?” I began to ask myself; but the thought was quickly banished from my mind by the loudspeaker (in its original voice) : “Attention! Push Button A4, push Button B4, push Button C4!”

I glanced at the clock—11.15 hours—and pressed the three buttons. Then I looked up at the map, and was puzzled to find that no black marks had appeared. I pushed the buttons again. Nothing happened.

Then the loudspeaker—it was voice number two again—practically shouted: “Officer X-117! Push Buttons A4! B4! C4!”

I turned and looked at X-117. He was sitting in his chair staring at the buttons, while his arms hung limply as if someone had severed the nerves. He did not stir, but there were some sounds coming from his lips.

They were hardly audible, but after a while I could make out what he was saying: “No! Anything but those! Not Buttons 4! I can’t kill my mother! No, not those…”

The Operations Room door suddenly swung open and two men—from the medical department, I think—dragged X-117 from the room. His arms were still hanging limply, and as he staggered out of the doorway he went on repeating: “No! Not Buttons 4….”

I had no time to reflect on what had happened. X-107 entered the room and quietly took X-117’s place at the other table. X-137 came in behind him—apparently to replace me if necessary.

The loudspeaker sounded again (by now the time was 11.20): “Push Button A4, push Button B4, push Button C4!”

This time it went without a hitch.

At 11.21 hours today the 9th of June, I was through with my daily duty. As a matter of fact, I was through with my life’s work. I had done my job. My function as PBX Officer was completely fulfilled.

The loudspeaker said: “You are free, gentlemen. You may go to your quarters or, if you prefer, stay to watch the results of A4, B4 and C4.”

X-107 and X-137 remained behind to see what happened. I came back here to my room and lay down.