Guernica - a tale of nanobots and corporate betrayal

We've an exciting piece of new flash fiction for you now in Guernica, a tale of nanobots, and corporate betrayal by Alexander Nachaj. Alexander a PhD student in Montreal, Canada, where he works as a content manager and photographer. This is his debut story – anywhere. You can find out more at www.anachaj.ca and by following him on Twitter at @anachaj


Guernica
by Alexander Nachaj


The air smelled of gasoline.

"Welcome to Brazil," muttered the pilot.

He opened the bay doors, and she stepped out onto the greasy tarmac.

#

The terminal was busy, but lazy amid the heat.

"Madelaine Stark?" The voice, faintly European.

She met the blond man. He had the body of a soccer player. 

"Peter Linden," he held out his hand and they shook. "Product management."

#

The camp was cold and rusted. The jungle had gone the colour of ash. A half-dozen workers sat under a tarp, hiding from the sun.

"As you can see, nothing grows here."

"Good." She slammed the case on the open table. "It's time for our first trial."

Three canisters. She removed the first and emptied its contents into the ash. A slow, thick liquid, filled with bots smaller than the eye could see.

"How long will it take?" He asked.

​"We'll see."

#

A day passed and then another. She was emptying the second canister when she saw it. Dust between the tents. Green around the edges. Bloom.

"My God," uttered Linden.

She shook her head. 

"God had no part of it."

"Still, he must hate the competition."

#

She worked into the morning. He stirred under her bed-sheets.

"I noticed the ring," he said.

"It's just a memory."

"Should I be watching my back?"

She stopped typing. "I buried my lover in Madrid. He was working for the enemy."

Only a slight pause. "Will you ever love again?"

"You said it yourself. Nothing grows out here."

#

Another week passed. One canister left, but she held it off. The growth was accelerating. The valley ever more verdant. In a month, maybe more, they could change this land.

But she barely noticed the matching changes in him. In his eyes was hunger, and perhaps something more.

#

Another night under and over the sheets. Two bodies entwined. 

He left her to get some water, and to check on their little jungle.

When he didn't return, she was already nervous. In the other room, the screen still flashed. She discovered it, far too late. The message was sent. They were on their way. 

The competition.

#

Black on black they flew. Silence in the night sky. The choppers were almost over the green. She didn't wait to hear their greeting. She ran and ran, through the thick trees, and into the clearing beyond. 

She wasn't sure how far she'd gotten, before the flashlight found her.

In his hand was a revolver. In the other, the case with the canister.

"Sorry, but some offers are better than others."

She frowned. "You don't know them like I do."

They saw the light before hearing the sound. The camp and everything around it, tossed into one big bonfire. Then it came, a clap. The ground shook and she knew.

They hadn't reached safe distance.

#

​Morning glow. Dust covered everything. Her skin was rough and scrapped, but she was alive. She pulled herself to her feet.

In the distance, everything was gone. Fresh ash and burning cinder. More of the same, like it had never changed.

#

He lay in the dirt and blood a few feet away. Scrap of vine across his chest. She picked up the revolver.

"Why?" He seemed confused, of the bombing and not of her. A dying man, still unaware what a company would do for its profits.

"Risk management," she said. "Some things are better left off the market." 

She sent Linden to join her ex-lovers.

She pondered the case, but left it by his empty hand.

#

Stark washed her face in the fountain, and in the terminal she waited. The Company would write it off, or maybe they'd retaliate. It wasn't her place to say. They'd pull her out, clean her up, and send her some place new. She’d test another product, probably meet another man, and watch her life on ceaseless repeat.

She almost pitied them, lovers gone and new, but they always came. Out on the tarmac, she smelled the gasoline.

Lifted into the sky, all ground looked the same way down below.