Chapter 2: Twenty one and a half hours

The first haemorrhage emerged on Tuesday May 16th 2023 at 9:37 in the centre of Mumbai, India. The US Secretary of Housing and Urban Development (12th in line of succession to the presidency and most senior official still alive) issued a statement of universal surrender at 06:04 the following morning.

A little over twenty one and a half hours was all it took for humanity to fall, a 99.99% casualty rate. The haemorrhages  first emerged where population density was highest, growing exponentially to eradicate entire cities within minutes. Some governments attempted to begin evacuations of urban centres. While this saved the buildings of some towns and cities from annihilation, it also just caused the haemorrhages to emerge within the snaking convoys of those thousands fleeing.

Indeed, the haemorrhages took no notice of surrender. No differentiation between military or civilian, adult or child. No communication with them, or whatever had unleashed them, was ever established. Human weaponry had no impact, it was as effective as shooting at the wind. Even with humanity close to eradication, haemorrhages continued to emerge, precisely targeting those still alive, just at a smaller scale and slower rate, as if reducing their ambition to match their depleted prey.

The remaining dregs of humanity discovered two ways to stay alive, one at ground level, the other a little higher. With the haemorrhages scaling themselves to the density of humanity being targeted, the survivors at ground level began to understand that staying in very small groups, or even alone, and staying constantly moving made the haemorrhages struggle to target them as effectively. But constant movement was a challenge, petrol goes stale over the years, vehicles break down, bike chains rust, feet blister and sleep is needed. A lack of contact with other humans also had a longer term impact both in terms of the sanity of what was a social species and also on the potential gene pool. The decline of humanity at ground level continued in the years after the first emergence, just at a slightly slower pace.

Other survivors took a different approach. After the initial wave of haemorrhages it became evident that the majority of those humans still alive had been in the air or on the deep ocean at the time. Haemorrhages would only emerge close to the ground. This recognition bought a few humans time, but not a complete solution.

Airplanes were limited as to their time in the air by fuel considerations; being in a plane at the time of first emergence was only a temporary stay of execution. The high-seas offered longer term sanctuary, but supplies would again prove to be the limiting factor. Ships would need to dock at some point, even if months after humanity’s fall, but as soon as they entered shallower water a densely packed cruise liner or ferry would immediately attract unwanted attention. A few ships managed to implement a system of docking some miles offshore and sending in a smaller and faster moving tender (or even helicopter for the military vessels) but keeping hundreds of people fed and a large ship seaworthy required a level of supply (and fuel) that time limited even this solution.

Establishing who was first to permanently take to the skies via a balloon to escape the haemorrhages is impossible to fully establish. It was a gradual process rather than a sudden adoption. Initially lower technology solutions such as small hot air balloons were used as a simple way of staying safe while asleep, but they still required refueling and could accommodate only a few people, none comfortably. Then, over time, floating habitation became more ambitious and more permanent. A solar powered blimp could remain in the air for months at a time. Three or four such blimps tied together could support each other during times of maintenance, further lessening time on the ground, time at risk.

There is an old saying that “necessity is the mother of invention” which proved true with these new habitats, although might more fully (but less catchily) be expressed as “the threat of utter extinction of the human race is the mother of invention”.  As more lighter than air vehicles grouped together, the more that could be achieved. Vacuum airships, once a theoretical concept, became reality. Massive geodisk spheres, established out of millions of small triangular sections, were built and filled with air heated by the advances in solar and lens technology made in the skies.

The airship cities had many differences to their brick and concrete ancestors at ground level, an obvious one being that they can move location. However, in common with ground cities, competition over their leadership was frequent. In the early days of the floating cities, the more limited technology meant that, to keep the habitat structurally stable, the constituent airships providing the greatest buoyancy needed to be closer to the centre. The owners of those ships, the ones with the most buoyancy, became central to the wider city’s survival. The first Steering Committees were formed, those commanding the greatest buoyancy deciding the route of the wider city.

Floating cities grew larger, but so did tensions over their leadership and direction (literally and figuratively). Cities would change shape, break apart, even merge with others. Buoyancy was still key to the power dynamics--there was no getting round the fundamental physics of the floating habitats--but buoyancy as a concept slowly merged into buoyancy as a currency. Who could provide how much? What could they buy with it? Scarce goods from the ground? Or power and influence?

An airborne economy began to flourish. Steering Committees hired administrators to record the flow of buoyancy. The so called Scroungers began to establish trade routes, both between the cities, but more often between the cities and the remnants of ground level society. Although most on the Steering Committees would no longer deign to set foot on ground level again--and their children would likely never touch it--there was plenty of appetite for goods that still could not be produced easily in the sky.

War between the cities was not unheard of, but rare. Weaponry was heavy, and so exerted a high cost of buoyancy. In addition, much of the pre-haemorrhage weaponry had been either spent in a futile attempt to resist humanity’s demise or relied on advanced technology or knowledge lost to the new dawn of airborne society. Instead cities might keep a small fleet of rudimentary aircraft, often electric and propeller driven, to fend off any unwanted advances. But, as time moved on and cities began to stabilse, these fleets became more ceremonial, piloted by young members of the dynastic Steering Committee as a sign of status rather than ability.

What was more common was a harsh treatment of those suffering a buoyancy deficiency. Not everyone on the habitats had their own airship contributing to the city’s wider buoyancy, but they would bring skills and services that others would trade buoyancy for. If these relationships ever broke down, then deportation from the habitat to the ground was a distinct risk.

It was a tenuous existence for many on the margins of the buoyancy balance.