The Midnight Spike - Death of the Internet - Short Fiction

This one might seem silly, but I've always thought that the Internet has all the makings of the perfect social experiment on a Global Scale. It impacts every single person in one way or another, and it has guided technological advancement ever since its first inception. I'm just waiting for someone to pull the plug and see what happens. Of course, that hasn't happened yet. But what if it did?

Whenever I think about science fiction, I realize that more often than not, some version of the Internet is always there.  I've always wondered what it would be like if that weren't the case, and what could possibly get rid of something as massively ingrained in our society as the Internet. In light of that, I got to thinking and this thought popped into my head:

Writing Prompt:

The Internet is down, and it's not coming back.

Here's everything that I cam up with so far.  I like it as a short story, but it might make for more of a novella or something similar.  I'd love to hear what you think! Just remember: this is an EXTREMELY rough first pass!

Side Note: I also kind of stole a fictional place from an existing work.  Most likely going to change that, because it is rude and ill-tempered behavior, but it fit so perfectly with what was in my head! Let me know if you catch it.

Short Fiction/Science Fiction

TITLE: The Midnight Spike - Death of the Internet

It started with the Internet. 

We all hailed the connected 'net' as the great wonder of our time.  I mean, sure, there were a lot of things that came afterward that impacted things in a much more immediately profound way, but most of those innovations arose from the foundation that was the Internet. 

Just think about it - we jumped from a world where phone calls and the local postal service were the only real ways to communicate to each other on a rapid basis.  If you wanted to collaborate with someone on an idea or innovation, those were your best options outside of hopping in a vehicle and meeting up somewhere with a lot of coffee and enough chalk/whiteboard space to get everything down. 

The internet brought us all together - it connected machines first, tying up phone lines for instant messaging and social networking - simultaneously distancing us from our fellows and bringing us closer together on the digital side.  It was a sort of revolution: the revolution of information. 

For the first time, ideas could be shared and discussed freely without physical restrictions inhibiting access to resources, colleagues, etc.  Of course, not everything could be done with the initial version of the Internet, but it was a blazing spark that lit the powder keg of the digital age. 

Everyone worked towards refining and shaping the evolution of the net.  Scientists, social engineers, politicians - everyone was online, and everyone wanted to see where it would go.  We brought cellular telephones to everyone, passed information and Internet connection through nothingness, cutting wires and necessary connections rapidly.  All the while burying our faces further and further into the digital ocean of information and connection.

Not all intentions were benign.  All of this interconnectedness drew the darkness in many like a shark to the scent of blood.  More information was being stored online, which meant more information could be taken by anyone who had the skills.  The age of cyber warfare had begun - in the backroom of an office by an employee who knew he could beat the system. 

That's how it all went to shit.

The Internet brought us all together and then tore us apart - piece-by-piece.  It started off simple enough: hackers refined their skills, companies developed processes and software to keep them out.  Then the hackers found ways of circumventing that defense with a combination of both new and existing tools, and the process started over again.  It was a self-perpetuating cycle - there will always be those who seek to own what they have no right to, and any success in defense is only a brief respite in the vicious war for the ownership of cyberspace. 

Soon enough, we learned.  We the people who sat behind antivirus software, protecting our information behind several sets of digital locks, keys, and encryption that promised to be the most effective on the market; we learned what all victims eventually learn: our safety is only secure in our own hands.  We fought back accordingly.

While politicians both home and abroad were lobbying for peacekeeping during an increasingly turbulent time - working towards keeping the nuclear standoff from tipping one way or the other - cyberspace blew up with breaches from both sides.  'Hacker' stopped being synonymous with attacker, it became a moniker for the everyman.  If you wanted to ensure your safety and your security, you hacked your way through those who stood in your way, and those who tried to take that safety from you. 

It was a way of survival without going dark - without going back to nature.  Who knows, maybe we should have just jumped ship, dropped our video games and our virtual reality and our fucking Internet down the toilet and started from scratch. Maybe then we wouldn't be in this shithole of a situation right now.

Well, you know what they say:

"Maybe, maybe.  There's nothing better and nothing worse, baby."

Of course, with the common man and woman fighting back against the digital dangers of the world, it was only a matter of time before it escalated to a whole new level. Just think about it for a second and you'll get there: what is the most likely outcome of a conflict in an environment where everything is connected, from personal devices to vehicles, medical technology, oh - and nuclear weapons?

Yeah, you're left standing in the center of a giant clusterfuck with nothing but a steamer in your hand as a reward for your efforts. 

To be fair, the Midnight Spike was probably only a hair or two away from the best-case scenario.  The U.S. was an empire without the title, European countries were fighting for a foothold in the global economy and war space, and an increasing number of smaller countries were electing leaders who somehow knew exactly where to go to get their hands on a high-yield nuclear warhead.  Someone was bound to blow his or her top and hit the big red button. At least with the Spike, the nervousness and waiting was over. 

Hell had taken its place. 

For the longest time following the Incident, the world was in a state of muted chaos.  Countries were pointing fingers, itching to react in kind, but nervous because everyone felt the same way: nobody knew what happened.  We always thought when war came there would be a declaration, or at least a few morons to stand atop the ash heap and claim responsibility.  And yeah, there were a few groups that took the credit, but they were quickly debunked.  The terrorists in the east didn't have the know-how or technical access to cause such destruction, the smaller countries weren't reaping the rewards they claimed in the wake of the incident, and one major thing happened that nobody could explain: the network was down. 

The Incident is just what we call it. It could have easily been called the cataclysm, but that's too much of a pain to write in typical correspondence.  Not to mention it doesn't translate well. In reality, the 'Incident' was a cluster of two self-contained explosions: one immediately after the other. 

The first explosion hit Manhattan Island. We probably should have seen the signs, what with New York’s history of attacks, and all. The explosion leveled an entire block, and sent debris over another two in any direction.  There was no warning, and when the dust settled, nobody knew what to make of it.  The origin of the explosion was 60 Hudson Street – one of the biggest Internet Hubs this side of the Pacific Ocean.  But with backups and failover in place, everyone just looked at the event as a depressing malfunction – few casualties in the grand scheme of things, and no foreseeable lasting effect on economy or enterprise.  The nation wept, the world was saddened for a time, and everyone moved on.

The second blast happened just over two months later.

Hidden away in Oslo, Norway was an apparently abandoned castle – dating back from before the Second World War. Historians note that local military constantly patrolled the site, effectively keeping out snoops, troublemakers, and the dregs of society.  They operated under a guise of protecting national treasure and secrets, and nobody gave the site a second glance.   

Hidden in the depths of that castle was the single greatest threat to digital civilization that mankind had ever seen – a hub that touched every byte of data transmitted over the Internet at one point or another.  A conglomerate of major corporations and national leaders oversaw the operation, and kept it up-to-date with physical and digital security, utilizing the site as a source of research – constantly kept in check by one another.

Admittedly, it was a plan destined to fail at one point or another.

When the Oslo Castle blew, it seemed like a coincidence - just enough time had passed between blasts, and few enough people knew what was beneath the ancient facade that nobody made the connection.  Not until the rubble cleared, and analysts realized something that had never occurred to them: people weren't the target, they were just collateral damage.