The Distant Planet 2 A novel

Glasgow, Scotland, 3,500 AD.
After the Cause bomb destroyed everything, Connor is now an old man. When he is on the verge of death, he lets other people to take over from him in The New World Order.


1. The Distant Planet-Part One


Glasgow, Scotland, 3,500 AD.

The First Day of The Second Cause.


Connor was on the verge of death. He was dying. Amy Weiss shook her head. "It's time to leave Earth", she said. "My time to go is on my terms", he said. Amy nodded. "The nuclear radiation has ruined Mankind", she told him. "The leukaemia and cancer rates in children is up by seventy percent; the cancer rates in adults are eighty percent", she said. "So, what now?", Connor asked her. "You'll die knowing that you helped stop The Cause bomb. No one knew if it was a bomb. In short, everyone is grateful that they were safe", Amy looked at the bedroom's red curtains. Connor gasped his last ever breath...and died knowing that Scotland was safe from danger.



Edinburgh Journalism Building.

7:33 am.

Jennifer Swallow wore an Anti-Radiation space suit. She stared at the remains of the building due to nuclear fallout. She was wearing heavy white boots on her small feet. She hadn't followed protocol when she went through the Radiation Zone. She saw other scientists who weren't eager to breathe in the acrid fumes in the morning air. She looked around. "Hold it! Stay still!", she ordered. Carlos Martinez, the owner of the building, shook his head. "I have lost three billion E-dollars because of The Cause bombing". Jennifer shook her head. "Since the pound system was wiped out in 2,677, all of the money is in 'E-dollars'. You should know that", she told him. Carlos, who was taller than Jennifer, put on his silvery gas mask on his face; Jennifer also wore her gas mask. "The Edinburgh Nuclear Radiation Laboratory is closed. We must find another place for work". Carlos nodded. "We can't breathe in the fumes. It'll black our lungs", Jennifer said. She reached the Grey Room that was marked: "​PRESS ROOM #256a​". Glass was smashed on the ground. "Be careful, Carlos". He nodded. By eight o'clock am, they walked down the thin hallway towards the ​EXIT DOOR​, and went outside.



Ellen Sharpe Westwood gazed into her I-scope. By nine o'clock am, she was looking at the early morning sky. The stars weren't twinkling; the stars were silent. "We have to wear Radiation Suits, Ellen", Anne Daniels Westwood said. "Mine are torn", Ellen stated. She looked around to see The Arched Garden. None of the flowers were forming because of the fallout; the flowers were wilting. "What time is Father coming for dinner?", Ellen asked. "Six-thirty pm. He's in charge of The Hybrid Committee in Glasgow", Anne answered. "Why did they integrate the hybrids into the human populace?", Ellen asked. "It's because it's a desire to serve Mankind's interest in other creatures", Anne answered. She then heard the sound of a whistle, and their time together was over since they had home schooling with Mister Packard, in the E-chamber room.



"It's unbelievable", Sir Richard Anderson said. He shook his head. He moved around the Crystalized Room. "All robots are deemed safe from harm", Lady Sandra Anderson sipped her black coffee. "It's the process, dear. A long process". She glided towards her husband. Then she kissed him.  "Morning tea is served", Clive Silvers bowed. Sir Richard nodded, as the robot-servant gave them a tray of scones with strawberry jam on a tray.



Father McDonald walked towards the Glasgow Catholic Church. He bowed near the altar. He watched the congregation who had arrived for the ten o'clock am service. He smiled at them, then he spoke in a clear voice: "In today's world, technology has ruined all personal contact with humans. Everyone has drones, robots, aliens, and hybrids working for us. In the future, we're paying the price since the First Cause bomb shattered Scotland with nuclear radiation fallout. Because all of us lack faith, we must pray harder. Now, turn to Psalm 23 in the King James Bible...", he said. And, as they did so, the distant effect of the nuclear radiation ruined the burned city.


Ellen Sharpe Westwood opened the brown cabinet doors. She grabbed a small E-rifle in her right hand. She wore a silver Anti-Radiation suit; she walked in her grey boots on her feet. "We have to head to The Safe Zones", Anne Daniels Westwood insisted. She was wearing the same Anti-Radiation suit, and boots. "What can we do now, Ellen? Mom and Dad are in Waco, Texas, on vacation", she asked. "We have to go to the Edinburgh Safety Zones", Ellen told her sister. As they walked towards the Scottish city, the burned parts of the city were clearly seen, in the dark.


The President of the Neurological Society of Glasgow Professor Stan Maddow, MD, stared at the I-screen of the patient in the Operating Room. Several medical students in white suits were looking through the glass windows, as drone robots made the first cut into the brain to alleviate the pressure. "It's going to take six hours. Because of the nuclear fallout, we won't be cutting into the cerebellum because it will lead to bleeding", he said. The spacious room was under bright lights. "Professor, you can use the scalpel", Doctor Casey Harrow, MD, said. He nodded. He had already was wearing green gloves on his hands. Before he could do anything else, the electroencephalograph machine beeped constantly. An hour later, by eleven-thirty am, the patient, Dale Carson Blake, twenty-three, a plumber, was under deep anaesthetic. By Midday, the operation was successful. "There's no bleeding on the brain, Professor", Assistant Neurologist, Doctor Hale Jordan, Jr., added. After the operation was over, the Professor said: "There's four more epileptic patients to see during the day. I won't be finished until eight o'clock pm tonight". He glanced at the patient, and smiled, "Bring the patient back to life, Doctor Hale. If there's further bleeding on the brain, the patient will die from an aneurysm. And that could be fatal". He finished performing the operation, grabbed his gloves, and took them off. Then he left the Operating Room double doors, and washed his hands in the small, silvery, sink with soap. Then he walked to the café, and had his lunch.



Zachariah Bean knocked on the cylinder room. "ENTER!", a deep voice uttered. "I was concerned about the Cause bombing". Kane Jacob Masters gripped his grey cane in his old, right, hand. "Glasgow and Edinburgh, are affected by nuclear radiation fallout. It's inevitable that death will occur. It means that Scotland was the only country, apart from America, to suffer from the affects of the bomb. Besides, there's an increase in leukaemia, and cancer in humans. There's no data on drones, robots, and hybrids with any of the blood diseases", Kane stated. He wore a grey robe, and black slippers on his feet. Zachariah gazed at the E-fireplace that was in the middle of the office room. "Are there any hardcover books about The Cause?", he asked. "Yes, there's one. It's called: '​The Scientific Analysis of The Cause in Glasgow​' by D. I. Davis, III' in the library", Kane said. Zachariah walked down the left-side of the room, then checked the 'S' section. He grabbed the book in his hands. "It's over two thousand pages long", Kane told him. "That long. Maybe it should be broken down into a collection of volumes", Zachariah shook his head. "No one has done that, Sir. Because I haven't the time and inclination to do so. Would you like some lunch? I have my serving-drones who can make some sandwiches and coffee", Kane asked. "Yes, that will be great. I am hungry. Your house is three hours from Edinburgh", Zachariah said. He sat down on a grey marble chair. By twelve-thirty pm, the servant-drone appeared to serve them their lunch, just as a group of E-soldiers were marching down the ashy road towards the house.


The distant planet of Earth was full of dead memories. Davis Underwood glimpsed the sky. He saw several E-soldiers were on patrol. Two hundred meters ahead were the words: ​FORT BLACK​. He saw six robot soldiers were doing exercises nearby. A robotic Drill Sargent yelled orders: "I WANT FIVE HUNDRED PUSH UPS NOW. IF I DON'T HAVE THEM BY SEVEN O'CLOCK PM, NO ONE WILL HAVE DINNER TONIGHT". Davis, who had joined the military as a cadet three year's ago during The First Cause, saw three cyber-soldiers were standing at attention. Nearby were several high powered I-rifles that were near the red dust. "Excuse me, is there a place to enlist?", he asked them. "Go over to Sector Three", the second cyber-soldier answered. "Thank you", Davis said. He walked long the cobbled road, turned right, and reached a building that had the words: ​SECTORS 1-8​. When he saw a female cyber-soldier holding an I-rifle in her hands, he stopped walking. "Is this Sector Three?", he asked her. "Yes it is. I'm Cadet Sherry Bloom. The Second Cause is being discussed at the moment. It's a political item on the agenda", she answered. "I see. Everything's political in the future. I'm Davis". She nodded. "All of the cadets are in training. Because Ivan resigned as President, there's no E-money for us". Davis filled out an E-form. "General Edward Kelly is in charge of the Glasgow Army", Cadet Bloom said. "I'll wait for him". By one o'clock PM, Davis ate a sandwich while he waited.


Professor Stan Maddow, MD, walked into Ward 53a. He saw a woman in bed. "Good afternoon, Christine. How are you feeling? I hope the side-affects of the brain clot in the cerebellum hasn't ruptured", he asked. "No, Professor. The pressure has gone away", Christine Anders answered him. He checked the E-chart. "The operation is scheduled for two o'clock PM. It'll take five hours". Christine nodded. "Will I regain my sight, Professor?". "The chances of a full recovery is ninety percent; the other ten percent is due to medical mistakes. At Glasgow Neuropathology Hospital we have all of the modern techniques to help patients in the year 3,500", the Professor said. A middle-aged nurse walked into the room. "Time to take your blood pressure, Christine". She saw a E-machine that was attached to a creamy wall socket in the dim wall. When the blood pressure was finished, she was prepared for the operation that would save her life.


Jennifer looked at the I-drones that zoomed in the radioactive air. She wore her grey mask on her face. By two-thirty pm, the radiation fallout created further illnesses that affected all of Scotland. She reached the Glasgow Air Space E-taxi rank. "Take me to Edinburgh", she said. And the E-taxi driver drove in the hazy air, and headed to the Scottish city.


Malcolm R. Robertson, Director of the Scotland Cryogenics Administration, (or SCA), arrived for work at three o'clock PM. He used the I-scanner card to get into the three hundred year old building. He pressed a password with his left hand. Once it turned a red colour, he heard a ding ​sound. Malcolm walked through the double doors, and went inside. A cyber-robot greeted him. "Greetings, Malcolm", it said in plain English. "Greetings, Norton. Can you tell me if there's any E-reports?", he asked it. "Yes, there's ten E-reports in the files", Norton answered. "Thank you", Malcolm stated. He walked upstairs. Then he reached Room 288s. He used the eye-scanner. When the colour turned green, the black room opened. Malcolm flicked on the bright, amber, light. He sat down on a grey desk, and perused the important E-files.


Glasgow Neuropathology Hospital

7:00 PM.

Professor Stan Maddow, MD, finished the long operation. "Okay, everything is correct. There's no internal bleeding on the cerebellum; there's no seizure activity that warrants further surgery", he said. Doctor Hale Jordan, Jr., nodded in agreement. "The patient should be free of epileptic attacks for now. If there are more, we have to take out part of the cerebellum". By eight o'clock PM, Christine Anders awoke, and she was taken from the busy Operating Room on a wheel chair. When she was taken to her small room, she slept in her bed, while she recovered from her operation.


Mary Kendall Richardson was doing her E-English work when the debris from the nuclear fallout hit her bedroom window. "Mother! Mother!​", she yelled. Karen Jay Richardson entered her bedroom. Glass shattered the E-room. "Oh my God!", she answered. She then pressed a black button that was attached to a long, grey, cord with her left hand. A robot cleaner fixed up the mess. When the glass was removed, Mary felt relieved. "It's alright, honey. I'll have to fix up the glass". She took out her I-scanner, and contacted a glass repair E-business on the cyber-net. She then waited an hour before several drones arrived to take away the glass. By nine o'clock, her mother paid the glass service five hundred E-dollars. Once the job was completed, the radiation levels outside was at an all-time high. Mary finished her homework, brushed her teeth, and went to bed before the two moons illuminated the red sky.

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