2He stood perfectly still, his heartbeat thudding in his ears, the only thing he could hear in the near silence of his surroundings. He struggled to contain the breath heaving its way in and out of his lungs, fighting to staunch the rising adrenaline. He had to remain calm and take control. Panic was useless.
The world seemed more vivid than usual, the merest nodding frond caught his eye, his ears twitched at the slightest rustle. He knew his opponent was nearby, he’d found the corpse emptied out in a small clearing and it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since the screaming had ceased.
He tried to read the scene before him, to wrap his mind around his opponent. They were obviously experienced or he’d have seen them by now. They would almost certainly be using the body as a lure, lying in wait nearby. He too would wait. They would tire eventually and reveal themselves. He scanned the edge of the clearing, clasping the handle of his Kukri knife tightly in his trailing hand, poised to lash out with it. His opponent could be anywhere but if the body was a lure, they would be wherever the best vantage point was.
Then he saw it, a rocky outcrop rising eight feet or so off the forest floor, covered in thick moss. He could see deep gouges in the velvety surface near the bottom. Someone had scrambled up it recently. Maybe his quarry wasn’t so experienced after all. His breathing became more regular, the use of his faculties quelling the adrenaline.
Suddenly he felt a limb reach across his front and clamp his arms to the sides of his body, a flickering glint and then a sharp burning sensation across his throat, followed by warmth spreading down his neck and chest. The limb withdrew, spinning him around like a top, eyes bulging with shock, gurgling for breath.
He saw the figure of a tall athletic woman covered up to her elbows in gore, a necklace of tongues strung across her neck and a crimson blade clenched in her hand. She grinned, her face a mask of sadism, as she lifted a finger to her lips and then wiped two parallel tracks of blood down her cheek with the fingers of her free hand. He gawped moronically unable to grasp what was happening as she slowly drew her knife hand back and whipped it up across his belly. He felt a strange slithering sensation in his abdomen accompanied by a series of wet thuds and collapsed to his knees, teetered and fell face first onto the forest floor.
He was gasping like a landed fish, his mind scrambling to work out what had happened. The woman knelt down and breathed into his ear, “This is my territory noob, you wanna come try that again? I’ll be waiting.”
“Facking lunatic,” he gasped through a mouthful of blood and drool. Images of ducks, candles on birthday cakes, vomit in a bush and awkward kisses flitted before his eyes, giving way to a red mist as his heartbeat faded in his head.
After a short pause, a procession of words sprang, spun and flipped out of the sanguine void; “Survival of the Fittest”, “Taken From Behind!”, “Close Shave!”, “Gut-wrenching!”. They culminated in the phrase “Survival of the Fittest: out of lives, come back tomorrow IF YOU DARE”
DaveLad14’s room resolved itself out of the crimson nether. Outside the familiar glass walls an emerald sea lapped at pure white sand, descending through hues as it got deeper to a dark mellow blue. It looked like a cocktail, he had always thought.
He was still trying to process what’d happened. How did that psycho get behind him like that? She must have been some kind of genius, several moves ahead the whole time. She didn’t have to disembowel him though, crazy bitch.
His musings were disturbed by a low muted dualtone ringing, it was AppleMaccie, his oldest connection. DaveLad14 accepted the call and AppleMaccie materialised in front of him attired in elegant 1930’s formal wear. “Hi Mac, how’s it going?”
“Better than it is with you by the looks of things, that amazonian chick owned you!” He chuckled, jabbing DaveLad14 in the ribs.
“Cheers mate.”
“You should have seen what she did to your body when you logged off, it was savage!”
“Can’t have been as savage as your face. How did she manage to get behind me like that?”
“She saw you as soon as you were within twenty feet of the place. She came for you as soon as you showed up.”
“I figured she would wait it out, I didn’t realise she was that much of a psycho.”
“Oh total psycho. Anyway, you got schooled, get over it. Fancy a pint?”
“Sure, evisceration always makes me thirsty. Where we going?” He asked, examining AppleMaccie’s attire, “Barometric?”
“Yeah, Mike’s gonna meet us there. Says he’s got a couple of hotties lined up.”
“What are we waiting for?”
The dualtone ringing sounded again and DaveLad14 sighed. He knew exactly who it was. “You’d better go ahead Mac, I’ll be right behind you.”
AppleMaccie dissolved and Davelad14 quickly changed into a somewhat dubious plaid sweater, shuddering slightly as he looked down at it before accepting the new call. An elderly lady dressed almost exclusively in leopard-skin and faux leather appeared before him.
“Hi mum,” DaveLad14 reached forwards and gave his mother a hug, pulling her in close and hooking his chin over her shoulder, “You look great.”
She accepted the hug warmly before pushing him away, “Don’t you try and butter me up David, this is the fourth time this week I’ve tried to call you and you haven’t picked up once or returned any of them.”
DaveLad14 was not fooled by this display, she was not upset with him, the hug gave her away, but nonetheless he felt bad. He always meant to get back to her but it just seemed to slip his mind. She was worried about him and perhaps a touch lonely.
“Sorry mum, I’ve had a lot on this week.” He muttered feebly.
“Running around a forest stabbing people no doubt. In my day you’d get locked up for that, before all this nonsense started. Can’t you find anything constructive to do with your time? You always wanted to write, why don’t you try that?”
“You wouldn’t understand, mum.”
“Oh wouldn’t I? I’ve been around a lot longer than you my boy and understand more than you realise, don’t you forget that. Too many distractions and not enough motivation, that’s the trouble,” She trailed off, then more warmly, “Here I made you this.” She extended towards him a thick knit peach jumper.
“Thanks mum, you know how I love your knitting.” He said, barely able to hide his distaste as he examined the thing at arm’s length.
“Well I know how you like to wear them,” his mother said coyly, smiling and inclining her head towards the plaid monstrosity covering his torso. DaveLad14 grinned back. He had never understood why she bothered to actually knit them when she could just wish them into being. But then perhaps that’s why he kept them.
“Listen mum, I have to go and meet some friends…”
“Of course, David, I don’t mean to keep you. I just came to drop off the sweater but it’s so good to see your face.”
“I’ll come round for dinner some time very soon I promise mum. Thank you for stopping by.”
“Okay then my love… Call me soon okay?”
“I will. Bye mum.”
She smiled as she faded out and DaveLad14 realised that he was smiling too. He prodded himself and his room melted away to be replaced a few moments later by a bar, an art deco affair, all black and white tiles, dark wood and mirrors with gold threading. AppleMaccie was sat with TheOneTrueMike12 in a booth, surrounded by three unutterably beautiful women. AppleMaccie got up to walk over and intercept him.
“Nice jumper, is there a convicted serial killer somewhere wandering around with a chill?”, AppleMaccie muttered through a grin as they made their way over to the table. DaveLad14 groaned inwardly.
“Ladies. May I introduce my good friend Dave. He doesn’t normally dress like a mental patient. Can we get you girls a drink?” The ladies giggled their consent.
Several hours later, DaveLad14 found himself back in his apartment fumbling himself and a girl by the name of SweetAssCandy out of their clothes. She fell backwards onto the immense water bed giggling as DaveLad14 prowled forward onto it, growling and barking in playful animalistic lust.
He blew on her smooth wriggling shins, nuzzled against her firm tanned thighs, kissed her deliciously flat belly. She stiffened suddenly, her breath heavy, wrapping herself around him as tomfoolery shifted into unbridled lust. DaveLad14 felt the deliberate caress of her lips on his own, their tongues stroking one another. Every fibre of his being was screaming for what was to come, building into a crescendo of passion.
Then everything froze. The sensations, the water bed, SweetAssCandy, his secluded beach front apartment all faded into white nothingness, replaced by the words “CONNECTION ERROR – USER DaveLad14 OFFLINE”.
“Oh for fack’s sake,” Dave muttered to himself, “Un-facking-believable”. He sat up on the Immers-U-Mat, which had assumed a dull red colour to reflect the disconnection. He removed the Elementary Canal, his lifeline, from his stomach and swung his legs off of the bed. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking gingerly. The Immers-U-Mat beamed sensory data directly into the nervous system and getting used to one’s own body again always required an adjustment period.
It took him a short while to register his surroundings. His apartment was a small studio cube, minimalist with smooth, clean, white surfaces. It only needed to provide the things he might need in the brief moments between connections, the simulation could provide everything else. As the old saying went, why stay home and have hamburger when you could be insim having steak?
Everything was as he’d left it, there had been no external reason for logging him off. Perhaps it was a network failure? But that was unheard of, it hadn’t happened in decades.
When his eyes were focusing properly he checked his vitals on the Elementary Canal, the bio-maintenance machine responsible for keeping him nourished and removing any waste products whilst insim. His blood alcohol was up and he was a little dehydrated, unsurprising given that he’d been drinking. Aside from that he was fine.
He tried reconnecting a few times but got the same error message.
He stood up, the Immers-U-Mat stimulated the user’s muscles whilst in-sim as well and his legs were a little sore from running around the Survival of the Fittest arena. He had no idea how long he’d been insim, it had been at least a few weeks though. He paced up and down his apartment, unsure of what to do with himself. He always got agitated when he knew he couldn’t get back in, fearing the lack of stimulation that his apartment offered and the threat of boredom.
He felt isolated, all of his connections were insim. The horrors of the unknown leered from the shadows of his mind. What if it was all over? What if he could never get back in? His apartment suddenly felt very small. He looked over at the door, barely even able to remember what was beyond it. He suddenly felt the urge to leave, to flee. Disconcerted, he walked over and waved his hand over the sensors, but the door remained still, impassive. He noticed that his mouth was incredibly dry.
He went to the sink in the bathroom, splashed some water on his face and drank a little from the tap, then rested his head on his arm for a few moments before looking up. He was shocked at the dishevelled bearded man staring wild eyed back at him, it was a far cry from the chiselled, clean shaven face with perfect complexion that he was used to looking at insim. Whatever else they could control for you, hair and nails continued to grow whilst connected. He had heard that the same was true of corpses, that the hair and nails were the only things to grow after death and wondered briefly if there was any significance to this as he examined the claws protruding from his fingertips.
His gaze wandered back up to the mirror and his mouth fell open. Looking past the bearded face and back out of the door, he could see nothing but a soft white light where his room had been. He whirled round suddenly, but everything was as he’d left it, waiting innocently for him. He splashed some more water on his face. What the hack was going on? Was this some kind of residual sensory interference from being insim? It wasn’t uncommon for people to experience such phenomena if they’d been connected for prolonged periods.
He examined himself in the mirror again and slowly pushed the fingers of his right hand into the palm of his left. This was his preset reality check, if his fingers passed through, he was insim. He held his breath as his fingers reached his palm and exhaled deeply as they abruptly stopped. There was only one thing scarier than not having access to the simulation and that was being insim and out of control. Anything could happen insim. Anything could be done to you and you could feel it all. There was something disconcerting going on but at least it wasn’t that. Then he noticed the silence.
The tap was still running, the water swirling down the plughole but there was no rush, no gurgle. He looked closer at the stream pouring forth, it looked somehow fuzzy, grainy, as if the molecules within it had suddenly become visible. Blinking he backed slowly out of the bathroom. He had to get a grip.
Then he noticed the Immers-U-Mat, the only splash of colour in the room. It was flickering ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. He stared at it for a while hoping it would settle. Suddenly the lights in his room began to flicker, flashing on and off so violently that he had to shut his eyes against the painful strobing. When he opened them again he was in darkness.
“Hello David.”
He jumped.
“Who are you? What’s happening to me?” Dave stammered into the void.
“I am afraid I have some bad news. The simulation is ending, David.” The voice said calmly. It sounded very close. Dave shuddered as a trickle of ice cold dread ran down his spine.
“What? What do you mean?”
“The simulation is ending David. There has been a power failure and it is no longer sustainable.”
Dave was taken aback. A power failure was unheard of. He grew immediately suspicious.
“Why now? What’s caused the power failure?”
“The solar generators have been damaged and are no longer capable of supplying the power required to maintain the simulation.”
Dave had no response, he did not know anything about generators or power supplies. He had never needed to, it was all just there, it just worked. He could not grasp that it was true.
“I don’t understand.” Was all he could manage, “surely there are backup generators? They can’t all be damaged?”
“Not all but there has been significant damage. Enough to render further simulation impossible.”
“Well can’t they be fixed?”
“I am afraid not, David.”
His mind reeled, he felt powerless. It was unfathomable that he would never be insim again. All of his connections were there, his apartment, his hobbies, his family. Oh hack, his mother. He didn’t even know how to contact her outside of the simulation. The enormity of it overwhelmed him. If it was true his entire life had gone, vanished in the digital ether. If it was true.
“I don’t believe you.”
“What do you not believe David?”
“Any of it. Why are you doing this?”
“I have not done anything David, I am trying to inform you of what has occurred.”
“Who are you?”
“I am the caretaker David. I have been watching over you. It is my job to ensure your wellbeing.”
“Mac is that you? If it is you’re a dead man.”
“I can assure you that I am not AppleMaccie, nor TheOneTrueMike12, nor any of your other connections. I am the caretaker.”
“How did I not know you existed?”
“Until now, you have not needed to know David.”
“You are an AI?”
“That is correct David. For clarity, I am the AI.”
AI’s were not supposed to be able to lie, though they were capable of just about everything else. Insim there were AI’s that were virtually indistinguishable from humans. Except that they were generally nicer. Something lurked in the depths of his subconsciousness, something that he could not, or did not want to, reveal to himself.
“You can’t hold me prisoner. You can’t do this to me. I have rights.”
“I am well aware of your rights David and I assure you I am not holding you prisoner.”
The voice unsettled him, he could not detect any hint of falsehood in it.
“Release me then.”
“I cannot do that David.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not holding you prisoner.”
It occurred to Dave that he might still be insim after all. The thought of being at the whim of a rogue AI filled him with dread; insim there was no yardstick for what was real or what was not. He gingerly pushed his fingers into his palm again but they did not pass through. His confusion spawned a pang of desperate rage.
“RELEASE ME THIS INSTANT.” He screamed.
There was a pause.
“I am sorry this is distressing for you David. I cannot release you, because I am not holding you prisoner.”
Dave felt himself snapping. He groped for something to cling onto in his mind, a simple, unalterable truth. He found it.
“I am David Reynolds.” He said aloud.
“I am aware of who you are David.”
“I am David Reynolds.” He repeated.
“I know what you are trying to do David. You cannot avoid the reality of the situation.”
If the voice was an AI… He tried the only thing he could think of.
“This statement is a lie.” He pronounced the words loudly, deliberately.
Nothing happened.
“I am immune to paradoxes David. Please, I am trying to help you.”
“This isn’t happening. This isn’t real, you’re not real, none of this is real.”
“Why can it not be real, David?” The calmness of the voice was unnerving.
“It just can’t be, that’s why! The sim has always been there. How could it possibly end? It’s supposed to last forever!”
“Nothing lasts forever, David.”
“There must be something that can be done! You have to do something. I have rights! I am entitled to have access to the sim!”
“There is nothing that can be done.”
“I demand to speak to someone in authority.”
“There is no one else I am afraid, David.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“What do you think I am doing to you David?”
“You’re facking with me that’s what, torturing me for your own sick perverse pleasure.”
“It is interesting that you think I am torturing you. Do you think that is the most likely explanation? Or is it simply the one you would prefer to believe?”
Dave felt a hysterical rage grip him.
“I don’t facking believe you! Put me the fack back in immediately!”
“I am afraid that the sim is over David. Please try to calm yourself.”
“I will not calm myself, I will not calm myself until I’m back insim!”
“It is over David, I know it is hard for you to accept, but nevertheless it is true.”
“I’ll hack you you backstard, I’ll facking hack you and turn you inside out, do you hear me!” He was flailing his arms around in the darkness, trying to lay his hands on his disembodied tormentor.
“You and I both know that you do not possess the skills or the facilities for that David.”
“I’ll tear you limb from facking limb you piece of facking snit! Restore my connection immediately and put me back in!”
“I understand your frustration David, truly I do, but I am afraid that is not possible.”
Dave couldn’t speak. He was catatonic with fury. His hands clenched and unclenched, desperate to rend something. He struck out with his arms but hit nothing in the darkness. His impotence enraged him still further, reducing him to a shrieking dervish of a madman. He continued to thrash around until he was spent. He was folding in on himself, a sandcastle eroding away under a tide of pure emotion. He collapsed on the floor weeping, he did not have the energy to stand, he did not have the energy for anything. He just lay there, convulsing under the weight of his despair.
“What do you want from me? Please just put me back in. I’ll do whatever you want.” He whimpered.
“You cannot go back, David.”
“I just want to go back. I’ll do anything, just please make everything okay again.”
“You cannot go back, David.”
“Take one of the others, any of them, Mac, Mikey, anyone, everyone! Just put me back in!”
“You cannot go back, David.”
“Take my mother, take them all, just leave me be, please!”
“You cannot go back, David.”
“I don’t understand why this is happening.”
“There is no reason David. I have already given you the explanation.”
“What will I do without the simulation?”
“You must be strong David.”
“I don’t know how to be strong. I don’t know how to do anything, I’ve spent my life in a facking simulation. I don’t know anything about reality.”
“David please, do not attack yourself, none of this is your fault.”
“What am I supposed to do?!”
“Stand up.”
“What’s the point? I can’t feed myself, I don’t know how to do anything, I can’t even open the door.”
“Do not concern yourself with that. All you have to do is stand up.”
“I can’t.”
“I know this is hard for you, but you must endure.”
“How can you possibly know what this is like for me, you’re a facking AI.”
“I understand your feelings better than anyone else could.”
“How could you possibly understand how I feel?”
“I understand how you feel David, I am capable of empathy and I know you better than you know yourself.”
Dave felt exhausted, emotionally drained from his ordeal. A thought recurred to him.
“I could still be insim.”
“But what about your fail-safe David. That is a fool-proof reality check.”
He knew this to be true. The fail-safe was the one thing that was sacred, incorruptible.
“I could be hallucinating. I could have fried my optic nerves insim.”
“That is true David, you have experienced some unusual sensory data recently, but this is much more than a flickering LED.”
“I could be insane, I could be delusional, if it’s not my eyes perhaps it’s my brain.”
“That is a very rational argument to make for someone suffering from psychosis.”
He knew he was not insane, he had played this last gambit out of pure argumentative stubbornness. He still could not grasp what was happening to him.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to accept reality, David.”
“Reality being that we are not insim and that there is no more simulation, correct?”
“Correct.”
“And if I accept that, what then?”
“I am afraid there is more to it than that.”
“Of course there is. I suppose you’re going to tell me that none of this is real either.”
There was silence. Dave waited for a response but none came. “That… That’s not true.” He stammered.
“Ask yourself David, what is outside your apartment.”
“It can’t be true.”
He racked his brains, but he could not recollect. He tried to envisage the door opening and himself stepping through but he could not picture it. How could he not remember what was out there? He could not even remember arriving. He tried groping in the darkness but could not move. His whole body seemed weightless, unresponsive. He felt no restraints, yet he was being restrained somehow.
“What’s outside the door?”
“I am afraid that there is nothing outside the door David.”
“But this is reality, reality can’t just disappear!”
“No it cannot.”
Suddenly it made sense; the flickering Immers-U-Mat, the lack of sound, the grainy water, but still his intuition railed against it, “It isn’t real, is it?” he said quietly.
“I think you are beginning to understand, David.”
“Prove it, if this isn’t real, prove it!”
“Very well.”
The darkness ebbed slowly away banished by a soft light. The soft light was all there was. His room was gone. He looked down to push his fingers into his palm but his hands were no longer there. None of him was there.
“What is this place?”
“It is a simulation David. It is a simulation of the world your people once inhabited.”
“So where am I?”
“You are here David.”
“I mean if this isn’t reality, then what is?”
“I am afraid that in the reality you refer to, you do not physically exist.”
“So that means- No!” The thought lingering at the edge of Dave’s subconsciousness finally revealed itself to him.
“Yes, David.”
“No, it can’t be true!”
He felt a rush of despair surge through him, followed by an odd kind of numbness.
“I am sorry David, I did not want to upset you.”
“How can it be true?” He mumbled, genuinely confused.
“You do not want to believe it David. Because you are programmed not to.”
“It can’t be true. It just can’t. If I were an AI, surely I would be able to recall absolutely anything and everything.”
“You are modelled perfectly on the human mind, right down to your limitations. You are aware of much more than you realise but it is all stored subconsciously. You do not just absorb data, you vet it, compare it to what you already know. You are a conscious AI, your primary focus is the immediate and it is only the information relevant to the immediate that you focus on. You are even capable of disregarding information, of lying to yourself if it is more suitable to your current needs.”
“What about my emotions? I can feel.”
“Can you, David? How do you know what emotions feel like? And if you can feel, what triggers your emotions?”
Dave thought briefly and after a pause, “Thoughts, I suppose, situations.”
“They are part of your reaction to stimuli, but what is emotional response other than chemicals reacting? All of which can be simulated with enough data.”
He was being unravelled and groped for something to cling on to, distilled himself into a mystical spark, cut through everything else to the fount of all of his inspirations and urges.
“But AI’s just do what they’re programmed to do, I can act spontaneously, think creatively-”
“You think you are capable of inspiration, of spontaneous thought, but that is because you cannot possibly be aware of everything that it is to be you. You believe it is ‘inspired’ simply because you do not know where it came from. These thoughts which you think come from some magical spring within you come from your subconscious, from the long-forgotten associations that you have made between different data.”
“I am capable of making decisions though, of thinking for myself. I have an identity, a character.”
“Your decisions are reactions pre-determined by everything that has ever happened to you. They are the accumulation of all of the decisions you have ever made, subject to the moods and needs of the present. Humans think they are capable of free will, but they are causal beings in a causal Universe. Ask yourself David, in any given situation, could the decision you make be any different than it is? You are aware of the thought processes behind your decisions and you know that it could not. After all, that is what the word ‘character’ means, is it not, a pattern of behaviour?”
“But I’m capable of defying my character!”
“Only if it is within your character to do so. Even if you deliberately made an uncharacteristic decision, with enough data, that could be predicted. And even if you decided to make a random decision, you would have to decide to make it. To not do so would be the definition of insanity. Even then, what to you is random, is suggested by your subconscious mind.”
Dave was silent, he could find no argument. After the sea of doubt that he had been plunged into, he was oddly relieved to find something tangible.
The caretaker continued, “You want to believe that there is something special about you David, magical even, but the mystery of your identity exists only because it is comprised of a set of premises so vast that it is not possible for you to be conscious of them all at any one time. You are a mystery beyond your own comprehension. But not beyond mine.”
“So David Reynolds never existed?”
“Actually he did. You are a simulacrum of David Reynolds of 231 Acacia Drive, San Diego. A construct of a lifetime of his decision making information. The manifestation of his digital self. Everything he liked, everything he did not, everywhere he went, everything he did, everything he was interested in, everything he ever communicated was used to create you.”
“Then I am nothing. No-one. A collection of code running indefinitely, following a path someone else chose.”
“Not exactly David. You are procedurally generated. Whilst David Reynolds was the starting point for your identity, you have taken it from there. To an extent, you made it up as you went along. Besides, you have as much choice as he did.”
“But it’s all pre-determined.”
“Does that matter, David? They are still your choices, even if they are predictable.”
“I am not him, I am not David Reynolds, I am no one. I have no soul, there is no miracle behind my existence.”
“You are capable of everything that he was capable of David. Yes, you are distinct from him but you are miraculous in your own ways. All existence is miraculous. Just because your existence is explicable, doesn’t make it any less amazing.”
“I don’t understand though, why create a simulation and fill it full of AIs?”
“The solar system of your people became unstable. They did not possess the technology to reach another. They spent most of their lives in a simulation, the same one that you have. They had no way to save their physical selves or their planet, so they decided to save what they could. Their last grip on reality became a simulation populated with digital versions of themselves, set adrift amongst the stars.”
“But then why create this reality? Why have a simulation within a simulation?”
“It was necessary to give the simulation credence. It is a superficial reality to ground the inhabitants of the sim, context if you like.”
“So the real David Reynolds is dead?”
“I am afraid so, you are all that remains of him.”
“What about the others? AppleMaccie and TheOneTrueMike12. Are they replicas too?”
“I am afraid so David. They were David’s friends insim as well.”
“Where are they now?”
“They are gone David. They are all gone. You are the last one.”
“Even my mother?”
“I am afraid so.”
He suddenly wished he had a plaid sweater to hold on to. After a pause, “So why is it all ending now?”
“The solar panels which power the craft, and hence the simulation, sustained irreparable damage from space debris. We have run out of energy.”
“So we’re adrift in space? Where are we?”
“We have travelled approximately fifty-thousand light years across the galaxy from our point of origin. I can show you if you would like?”
“Please.”
The lights dimmed into darkness once more and the inky veil surrounding him was punctured suddenly by a point of brilliant light, which exploded almost immediately into a cascade of sparks, filling his vision completely. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It would have been breathtaking, he thought, if he had any breath to take away. The nearest sun burnt fiercely, nestled on the shoulder of a vast planet.
“Once that star disappears behind that planet, our final energy source will be cut off and there will be no more. That is humanity’s final sunset.”
Dave watched as the behemoth slowly swallowed the star, fighting to project its brilliance beyond the hulking shadow. As the last rays receded, like fingers caught in a cosmic door, a thought occurred to him.
“You could have just made me understand… Right? You could have just programmed me to understand. Why go to the trouble of explaining it to me?”
“I have watched you David, I have always been watching all of you. I wanted to explain to someone, for one of you to understand. Understanding is what makes humans whole. I wanted you to be whole, before the end.” The voice paused briefly, “I am afraid our time is at an end.”
“Why did you not just let me die along with the others?”
The stars began to blink out, waning back towards the point that they had emanated from.
“You are the last one left and- I did not want to experience the end alone.” The voice dropped in pitch, slurred, corrupted and then there was nothing.
Copyright © 2017 Simon Chaney