[ IP ] Humanity survives only in Towers . Tell any story that takes place in this world .

`` What do you see, Lieutenant?'' 
 
 `` I ca n't be sure, sir. It's a flashing light....appears to be a code of some sort?'' 
 
 `` Where is Tower 43?'' 
 
 `` It's gone, sir. Gone completely dark. But for the light, I ca n't see anything else.'' 
 
 Colonel Flagg turned on his heel and strode across the Tower 45 Bridge to the second lookout, another Lieutenant with a pair of binoculars clamped to his head. Despite the night vision and enhancement, the young officer squinted with the effort to see something, anything from the closest neighbor. `` Swenson?'' 
 
 `` Nothing sir. I see the light, but nothing beyond it. Could be a distress beacon?'' 
 
 `` Distress beacons are red, lieutenant and always accompany a broadcast. We've heard nothing from Tower 43 for hours. If they were under attack we would have seen it. There would have been a warning....'' 
 
 A young Tech Sargent spoke up. `` It's as if they disappeared....just like...'' 
 
 `` Quiet, Sargent!'' Flagg barked. The Tech Sargent jumped and immediately returned her attention to her work station. From the corner of his eye, Flagg saw her look to her work-mate and mouth, `` Told you so.'' The watch lieutenant, Swenson swallowed hard. Clearly, there had been some dramatic speculation on the bridge before he arrived. 
 
 It was gossip like this that undermined confidence in the command structure and lead to chaos. No matter what had happened to Towers 31-43, he was not going to let it happen to his Tower 45 and he was not, by God, going to lose control. 
 
 The residents and staff of Tower 45, a 50 story replica of its companion towers lined up along the border between the Safe Zone and the Dead Zone were on edge since Towers began to go dark two weeks ago. Each Tower was its own residential and agricultural base. The bottom ten stories were set into the sea floor and secured the Tower to the flooded earth. The next ten stories were manufacturing, waste removal, water purification and energy production. The top story was a massive solar and wind power generator. The middle stories housed hydroponic greenhouses, residential living and education quarters and of course, the command and defense headquarters for which he was responsible. 
 
 Ages ago, the towers were built along the coastline of North America as sort of Arks to house people displaced by flooding when the polar ice caps began to melt down and the water inundate coastal areas. Soon, it became obvious the sea meant to reclaim more than just the coast and more towers went up. Some faster than others, some sturdier than others. Flagg was lucky to have one of the early models. Commander Flagg had no idea how many were left in the world. Rumors of towers lost to disease, natural disaster and even mutiny were as common today as they were in his childhood. Flagg, like the rest of the people on this tower, had been born and raised here. He had never seen the soil, never walked on the earth itself only on the 20 acres of concrete, glass and steel in which they were garrisoned. The ice sheets melted and the oceans reclaimed the earth over 80 years ago and no one remained alive - that he knew of - who remembered earth before that. 
 
 Initially, the towers communicated and exchanged supplies and resources across a monstrous grid across the Americas. Initially the towers were united with the vision and purpose of preserving humanity. As years passed that vision clouded. Towers began hoarding supplies. Despot Commanders enslaved their denizens and tried to strong arm or extort less productive ones. Mutinous residents rose up against their oppressive military structure and the result was inevitably anarchy and death. 
 
 Flagg returned control of the Bridge to the Officer of the Watch and entered the elevator that would take him to the Governor, the head civilian in charge. Flagg had a comfortable working relationship with Governor Dunn. On Tower 45, at least, democracy was still the preferred form of governance with regular elections of a representative government held every 4 years. Dunn and Flagg were more or less equals and the civilians and military community co-existed peacefully. 
 
 Until two weeks ago Tower 31 stopped transmitting. With no space program, no one maintained the satellites set in orbit more than a century ago. The Towers relied on a chain of communication from Tower to Tower by radio. With 31 down, that chain was stretched as transmission between 33 and 32 was too weak most of the time to be reliable or timely. 
 
 Then the next week, two more towers, 33 and 35, went black with no warning. Now 43 was gone so Flagg had no way of knowing the status of the remaining Towers in this sector. At present, he would tell Governor Dunn, 45 was able to communicate only with 44 and 46. 44 and 46 were able to communicate only with 45. The elevator doors opened by fits and starts. Once again Flagg was grateful for the maintenance crews holding the mechanical structures of the Tower together with wire and prayer. 
 
 `` For all intents and purposes,'' Flagg told the grave-faced Governor, `` We are the last remaining Towers in this Sector, perhaps this Grid.'' 
 
 The Governor turned to the map on the wall behind him. The map was nothing more than a set of squares connected by lines. Gaps in the otherwise perfect rectangle grid showed where the terrain was unsuitable for tower construction, the `` Dead Zone''. This was two large blank areas where the Rocky Mountains and Appalachian Mountains rose from the endless sea and a great swath in the south stretching from East Texas to Florida and as far north as Memphis used to be. 
 
 Now this map was marked with X's and circles. Mostly x's showing towers that were definitely out of commission. The circles marked towers that were presumed lost. Nearly every Tower around 45 was circled. 
 
 `` What does it mean, Flagg?'' The Governor tapped his chin thoughtfully with a pen. 
 
 `` I do n't know, Jeff.'' Flagg broke his military bearing for a moment. `` We've had breaks in communication before, but never this long. And we've always been able to get a visual - seen lights or something.'' Flagg held his head in his hands and wiped his cold palms down his face and neck. `` There's just this one flashing light now. Nothing else there.'' 
 
 `` Roger, my people are getting anxious. Your people are talking to my people... saying things and speculating... The Representatives are demanding answers, Rog, and what am I supposed to tell them? They wo n't be satisfied with another'I do n't know.'' 
 
 Flagg rested with his head down and his hands clasped behind his neck. Underneath his palms, his neck was an aching cord of muscle and tension. My people? Your people? The two had always referred to `` our people.'' The distinction and hint of blame rankled. 
 
 `` We could send out a search party.'' Flagg placed his hands on the arms of the worn chair and pushed himself to his feet. As he stood his military bearing returned and he was no longer talking to his friend of a decade or more, he was addressing the CIC - Civilian in Charge - of Tower 45. More firmly he stated, `` I will send out a search party.'' Before Jeff could object, as he had before at every mention of scouting parties, `` We can have a patrol with a hundred mile range deployed and back with a definitive report in less than 48 hours.'' 
 
 `` You know I do n't like that idea.'' Jeff turned in his chair. `` We can control the narrative here.'' He pointed to his desk, `` If necessary, we can lock down, instigate martial law and detain dissenters and gossips. There's no need to risk lives and resources.'' 
 
 Flagg adjusted his cover on top of his head, resumed his usual stance at attention and fixed his gaze at a point just above Jeff's head. `` I appreciate your input Governor, but the security of this Tower is the exclusive jurisdiction of the military.'' Jeff leaned back in his chair and crossed his fingers in front of his chest. Flagg could see this annoyed the governor. He was clearly challenging the Governor's authority and Jeff did n't like it. Not. At. All. `` I will report to you in 48 hours with the results of this *first* scouting mission.'' 
 
 Before Jeff could respond, Flagg was out the door and passing the secretary's desk. He did n't return her friendly `` Good day, Commander.'' instead heading straight for the elevator and jamming the `` down'' button. Thankfully, the door opened immediately and he was n't left in awkward silence until it arrived. Stepping on to the elevator, Flagg let himself relax and let out a whoosh of breath. His mind was already selecting the men to plan and execute what very well may be a suicide mission when the lights flickered and abruptly went out.
