Cloud to Cloud

Episode 2: Doors Closed or Doors Opened

Evan straightened as he adjusted the lines of his dress uniform. The memory of the attack which stole Linc away two months ago haunted his eyes as he scanned the screens mounted along the wood-paneled walls. He had not looked at a screen since the incident. Even the sight of the mobile devices carried by the medical staff in the infirmary drew a sickening lump of dread in his core.

Evan had ignored the therapist's suspicions until several weeks into the sessions. Technology of any sort caused his mind to go blank and his heart rate to skyrocket. The first time was in the recovery room days after the attack. A nurse clicked on the wall mounted television. His vision went dark. He vaguely remembered jumping from the bed, grabbing a chair and launching it at the screen.

The therapists insisted it was PTSD. They suspected he'd wanted the shards of plastic in order to harm himself. Several sessions later they connected the incident to the television itself and diagnosed him with severe technophobia.

The doctors made it clear Evan needed more specialized care. It was also clear it would be some time before he could return to the field. If he ever could.

The men, most in decorated military dress, and a pair in the white coats and suits Evan had grown accustomed to seeing, seated themselves along the far side of the large, U-shaped table. Evan noted the table served as a fine barrier between himself and the board. His thoughts, however, flipped instantly to the touch screens as each man set his black, handheld device into a dock on the table.

Evan found himself counting breaths as generals and doctors settled into their seats. He hoped he had not been speaking the numbers out loud. As he took in the expressions of the men, reality settled on him. At this point it did not matter if he was talking to himself or not.

"It has been a long time since we have had any casualties in a war." A general with grey hair and more medals on his breast than the others, slid a weathered hand across his screen before raising his eyes to Evan.

Evan winced as a familiar pain fired through his skull.

"Well, that's a fine thing to make the history books for?" Linc's voice groaned in caustic annoyance. "First to cook their carcass in the all new, all tech battlefield."

"Yes, sir." Evan nodded, ignoring the din inside his head.

His lips felt drier than they had in the heat of the desert sun that day. He swiped his tongue over them.

"This blame is not on your shoulders, soldier." Another man, this one with fewer medals and far less hair on his head, offered a soft expression, though his words were level. "This was an oversight."

The commanding officer cut the man off with a flit of his fingers. "It was outside of our standard strategic plans. This new information is being reviewed for future missions."

"Translation, they will slide this whole shitstorm under a plush government carpet. Class act all the way." Linc's words hissed in Evan's head.

"Of course, sir." Evan maintained a stoicism, allowing him to step this far out of his hospital room.

"The EM─electro-magnetic─assault on our communications vehicle was not something our intelligence had made us aware of." The commanding officer glanced back at his tablet against the glossy black of the table.

"It is not a new technology," the officer to the right, his shoulder bearing the ropes of a communications squadron, inserted. "But it was something we thought exclusively in use by our allies."

"The world is still changing as we continue to colonize the Infostrada." The commanding officer nodded.

"Colonize the Infostrada, geez!" Evan's head began to ache from the strain of containing Linc's words. "You would think we were sticking a flag in the damned cyberspace or some shit."