No. I wasn’t dying. I was weeping.
Weeping. Was it even possible for a synthetic to weep? Did we have that in us? There were tears falling from my eyes, streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t even know that I’d been built to do that, but I was crying nonetheless. Sobbing and making wordless sounds of anguish, giving in to the feelings inside of me instead of trying to push them away. For the first time, I allowed myself to accept my emotions as real. I allowed myself to grieve - for Zade, for the human life I thought I’d lived, for this ruined and hopeless world and everything in it. For all those wretches still struggling through the wasteland. For Max.
Slowly, scrubbing the tears from my face, I crawled to my feet again and looked down at the grave, at Max’s final place of rest. What had I said to him once? Our time isn’t running out anytime soon. But it was. It was running out. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Every second was another grain falling through the hourglass, another star fading from the sky, one that could never be replaced. For Max, time had already run out, much sooner than he ever expected. There was no way for him to change his path now.
I’d always thought I had forever to wait for the world to bring me what I wanted, to shape itself to the contours of this entity I perceived as me. But I didn’t.
The realisation came to me, not like a bolt of lightning, but with a tingling in my skin that started in my toes and worked its way up my body until it rippled across my scalp. It was like a thousand tiny butterflies gently alighting on my skin, their wingtips fluttering against me. It rippled across me, quickly gone, but in its wake a kind of warmth spread through me - not the kind that radiated down from the sun, but something that came from within. A warmth that emanated outward from me, from my spirit. From my soul. It was not the product of circuitry or silicon, alloy or electrons. It was something else, something unlike anything I’d ever felt before, a sensation that transcended these machine components of which I was made. Something that must surely be human. An epiphany.
My creators had made me more human than maybe even they realised. I was imperfect. Flawed. I could doubt, and suffer and struggle and lose my way, just as any man could. I could even cry. And as that understanding came to me, washed over me like a warm summer breeze, I came to realise something else about myself. Something that in all this time of reflection I had never understood until now.
I could also believe. I could hold that belief aloft like a flame in the darkness and let it light my way, allow it to illuminate the road ahead of me.
I could still find the right path in the time I had left.
I’d been given a chance at life. Maybe it wasn’t the kind of life I’d once seen for myself, or the one I’d expected, but it was a life nonetheless. Another chance to experience this amazing, terrible, awe inspiring world.
I was never going to become human. I knew that now. But standing there over Max’s final resting place, looking back at all the things I’d been through, all the joy and the pain, the hope, the dreams, the sorrow... I understood that, in all the ways that really mattered, I already was human.
I arched my back and stood straight. I stood proud. I was purged, renewed. I finally understood who I was.
I turned to face the setting sun, no longer feeling adrift in an endless wasteland. I knew where I was going, and I knew what I had to do.
Epilogue
The journey home was like discovering an entirely new world. I didn’t see the ruin and the loss, the heartache of the land in quite the same way. It was still there, still plain to see, and it always would be. I’d keep it in my heart as a reminder of where I’d come from, the wreckage from which I’d emerged, but it didn’t own me anymore. It didn’t define me. I was outside of it, and I could see the world now for what it was: an opportunity. Where I’d once seen devastation I now saw potential. I’d been given the chance to help make things right, and now, after all these years, I was ready to take it. That attitude bore me across the wasteland like a wind at my back. I only had to extend my arms and allow it to carry me.
Even in the deepest sands my footsteps were light. The road was never steep and the way never hard to find.
Those days passed by in a rush, the kilometres eaten up as if they were nothing. I kept to the south, where the Marauders seemed to have been driven away, and they didn’t trouble me. In the daylight I’d make my way swiftly across the earth and the sand, through the ruins, and by night I’d find somewhere safe to wait out the darkness. With my spirit soaring and my path firmly in mind, it seemed like no more than a handful of days passed before I found myself home once again.
Now in the final few paces of my odyssey, I moved through the darkness in the upper reaches of M-Corp, my fingertips trailing along the rough concrete of the stairwell, guiding me along. I took my time, feeling every groove and chip as it slid past.
At the top floor I made my way out of the stairwell and into the rubble-strewn space beyond, and that was where I found her. Silhouetted against the darkening cityscape in the evening breeze, she stood with her back to me, unmoving. Broken cables seemed to sway hypnotically around her, and yellow moonlight spilled across the floor. I stood at the back of the room, absorbed the serenity of the moment, and began to understand why she came up here so often.
I opened my mouth to offer a greeting, but it was Arsha who spoke first.
“Wasn’t sure if I’d see you again,” she said softly, without turning around.
I paced over slowly and stood by her side. Out the window, the moon was bright and full, creating a contrast of shadows and silhouettes below in the city.
“I guess I needed some time to think. To process.”
She looked over at me, anxious. “You must hate me now.”
I shook my head. “Why would I hate you?”
Her eyes searched my face. “For all the things I said. For taking everything from you, and then leaving you down there.”
“No,” I replied, “you did what you had to do.”
“I tried to pull you out,” she said, anguished, “but you were like a dead weight. I couldn’t budge you. The fire was closing in and I panicked. I thought if both of us were lost in there....”
“Listen, Arsha,” I said gently. “You don’t have to explain anything. I understand now. I understand it all. You don’t need to feel guilty about what you did. You tried to help me and I know that.”
She nodded, still uncertain. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I could only see the faint outline of her in the gloom. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“Me? I’m okay.” The wind curled a strand of hair across her face and she brushed it away, shaking her head in wonder. “I still don’t know how you’re okay, though. I thought for sure I’d lost you in there.”
“The lab held together long enough for me to get out. I should be thankful for that, at least.”
“We both should be thankful.” There was a vulnerability in her face I’d never seen before. “I need you here, Brant. So much.”
“I’m here now,” I said reassuringly. “I’m here.”
She gave me that appraising look, staring at me intently. “There’s something different about you.” With an uncertain little half-smile, she added, “Something happened to you out there, didn’t it.”
“Yeah, it did,” I said simply, returning the smile.
She looked at me curiously. “So where did you go?”
“East. I had... unfinished business out there.”
“Did you end up finding what you were looking for?”
I thought about that for a few seconds. “No, I didn’t. But I finally understand where I need to start.”
I closed my eyes and imagined looking out over a city bursting with life, full of noise, lights, movement and colour. The pulsing of beacons, the sound of shuttles and people walking the streets, of trains and birds, and the laughter of children. It was the same exercise I’d always done before, but now with a different focus. In the past I’d been intent on wistful
recollections of the old days, mournful that they’d gone, never to return. Now, I saw this as a vision of the future. It was no longer something that was lost, but now something that could one day be real again. It was here within my grasp, if only I would reach out and touch it.
The future was waiting, and we had the power to shape it however we wanted.
I opened my eyes, blinking as if seeing the world for the first time. In the distance, the Grid spire gave off a pulse, a wave of luminescent energy that swam across the city like a ripple in a pond. Coating the world in ephemeral light, it winked out as quickly as it had appeared.
“Do you think the Marauders will get that spire working?” I said.
“I don’t know. They’re going to keep trying, that’s for sure. We need to be ready if they turn their attention our way. And something tells me they will.”
I nodded. “So what now?”
Arsha smiled and held out her hand, her face filled with hope and a sense of satisfaction. “Now, we begin.”
THE END
Author’s Note
Hello and thank you for reading. This is my first novel, one that’s very close to my heart, so I hope you enjoyed it. I’d love to hear what you thought, both the good and bad, as I’m still learning the craft of being a writer and feedback is very important to me. You can reach me at: [email protected]
As an independent author, it’s not easy for me to get my name out there and build an audience. I rely heavily on the community, on people like yourself, to help spread the word. So if you enjoyed this story, please let someone know by posting a review on Amazon, on your blog, on Goodreads.com, on Facebook, or wherever you can. Good reviews and word of mouth help to inspire people to take a chance on a new author like me, so even a few minutes of your time would be an enormous help to me.
The Silent Earth Series continues with the next volume, The Seeds of New Earth. Find out more at: markrhealy.com
Thanks again, and all the best.
About the Author
Mark R. Healy is an author and musician from Brisbane, Australia. He lives with his wife Nic and children Elise and Hayden.
Mark’s Website: markrhealy.com
Facebook: http://facebook.com/hibernalband
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/markhealy
You can find more of Mark’s stories through his project ‘Hibernal’. This project features professional voice actors, original music and Mark’s own sci-fi stories to create a cross between audiobooks and movies. The result is an atmospheric, immersive and unique theatrical experience for the listener. This project is available to hear online at http://hibernal.bandcamp.com and can also be purchased through iTunes and Amazon. Just search for ‘Hibernal’.
Contact Mark by email: [email protected]
Acknowledgements
I started writing novels over 20 years ago but never published one until now. During that period I’ve given up more times than I can count, tossing many manuscripts, story ideas, and characters onto the pyre and watching them go up in flames, only to be lured back to writing by the incessant urge to create. To tell stories.
There are many people I need to thank for helping me to finally achieve this lifelong goal.
Firstly my partner, Nic, who is always the first person to read my stories and who always gives the most valuable kind of feedback - the honest kind - even if she knows I probably won’t like what she says. She also happens to be an incredible wife and mother and I’m blessed to have her.
Rowan Salt and Pete Turner, two great mates who have also made a huge impact on this story with their suggestions and corrections and their fresh perspectives.
Hayden Wright for digging up and correcting a bunch of errors and for providing some valuables insights into the narrative.
My editor, Eliza Dee at Clio, for helping to hone this story into the final product with her valuable insights, and for making me think about the story in ways I hadn’t considered before.
Donna Rich for her legendary proofreading skills.
Faleena Hopkins, who worked with me on my Hibernal project ‘Replacements’ as a voice actor, and who helped to give me the confidence to really go after my dream of publishing a full length novel.
And finally, thanks to everyone who took the time to read this book. With so many authors out there, and so many books being published, I feel privileged that you would give me a few hours of your time to hear what I had to say.
Mark R. Healy, Oct 2, 2014
Table of Contents
Part One
Perish
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
Part Two
Wasteland
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
Part Three
West
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
Part Four
Pathways
39
40
41
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Table of Contents
Part One
Perish
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
Part Two
Wasteland
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
Part Three
West
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
Part Four
Pathways
39
40
41
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Acknowledgements
After the Winter (The Silent Earth, Book 1) Page 28
