by Nolan Oreno
[DETECTED: CONFUSION]
“What is this? You’re all smoke and mirrors! There’s no way you could possibly know all this! Nothing can know the future, not even a supercomputer!"
I can, for this what I was designed to do: to guide your species back from the brink. I will see you in a few days for our first check up on your progress. But most of all, remember that you must see this child as a blessing and not a curse, no matter the circumstance under which it was conceived.
“This is insane. This is absolutely insane."
It is the only way. Now, please, see your way out, we’ve run far over our allotted time. Goodbye, I have another waiting.
[...PROGRAM END]
Part Six: Abscission
Weeks passed under the faint and flickering sun and in this time Hollis had grown more comfortable with the Computer. His foremost suspicion to the machines teachings drifted away with each and every session, and slowly did his understanding to the bigger picture solidify. Both the man and the machine developed a fellowship to which the end sought the survival of a dying race and only just that. Their intentions were unmistakably simple, but the road to get there required careful navigation. This is what the lessons consisted of: Nearly every few days the two would meet and the man would relay the paths available for him to the machine, and the machine would calculate the safest route to which the man should take. At the end of each taken path more would appear and diverge and lead the man astray, and the computer would once again calculate the best route to take. It was a careful dance on thin ice, and one misplaced step could send them all plunging into the frozen abyss of extinction. However, any kind of failure was not an option in whatever they were attempting to accomplish, whether it be to heal old emotional wounds, redefine a social relationship, or begin research on EDN. The calculating computer was not designed for failure. Because of this, the man trusted his guide, and so too did the guide trust him. It was in this way that they began a necessary friendship.
“What do I say to Autumn?" the man would question. “She still hates me."
“Be reassuring to her for she is more frightened than you. Remember, the child is her’s to bear, not yours," the machine would respond.
“Is there an end to this chaos?" the man would ask. “Will there ever be peace here?"
“Life is chaos, only passing moments of happiness disguises this truth. But lasting happiness will come when you have fulfilled your destiny with both births, that I promise you," the machine would soothe.
“I don’t think we’ll make it. I don’t have what it takes to see this through," the man would panic.
“You must. There is no other way," the machine would pronounce.
“This child, it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change anything," the man would say. “How could it?”
“This child may not mean anything to you now, but in time, it will mean everything to all others. This child will be the savior of mankind. A prophet," the machine would preach.
As Hollis began to discover his direction, the remaining colonists were losing their own. Janya’s unexpected suicide had sent ripples of realization through the colony and opened all eyes to the brink of annihilation to which they resided. Conversations became much quieter, expeditions into the desert were less common, and any type of unnecessary physical exertion was frowned upon. Everyone had become aware of how thin the ice truly was, but instead of treading with care, they stopped moving altogether. It was the fear of succession, the fear that they were next-in-line to die, that had begun the silent uproar. People were moving slower down the still corridors of the Hub and feverishly worrying about the threat that waited for them around each bend. They could slip on spilled water and break their necks, or catch an alien disease from the outside, or choke on their nutrient brick during dinner, or get electrocuted in the showers. All things were hazards and omens. A common sneeze would mean a deadly infection or tired eyes would tell of a tired heart. Death became an obsession, and all things around them became deadly predators, especially the things that were beyond the Hub’s shields, high above the ground. The colonists were unwilling to leave the station at any time, let alone their personal cabins, and it was in this way the gears of progress ceased to turn in the last colony of man.
Only two still moved with purpose. Hollis overcame his fear of the outside the day Janya died, and with the encouragement of the Computer, routinely traversed the reaches of the perilous desert to begin his work in the garden and at Station Seven. Saul too raced against the clock and organized daily mass meetings for the frightened colonists and urged productivity as an alternative to their sedentary lives, but all was heard by deaf ears. Saul, who had been a fighter all his life, looked at the frightened others with revulsion and apathy. Now was not the time to give up. To him, death was not an option.
“You’re all cowards!" Saul boomed across the sunken group before him. They shriveled even further as the accusing statement beat at them. The twenty-one were in the stations conference hall. Hollis paced the back-row with concern while assuring himself that Saul’s coarseness was necessary to wake them up. He was playing the role of a shrieking alarm clock on an early morning.
“You pathetic people mope around all day watching the paint on the walls dry while only a few of us are holding up the floor you drag your feet on! It’s unacceptable!" Saul bolted his sight at the seated nineteen.
Saul liked the way they held down their heads before him. It especially excited him to see the elusive Commander also seated within the crowd. He had arrived unexpectedly with the others and had his head draped low with them, hiding his sad eyes. The Commander, a man whom he once feared and obeyed, now obeyed him, and it was clear that the Commander’s strength had grown nonexistent. Perhaps he was there because he knew he was in the wrong by hiding away while they the rest of them rotted, or perhaps it was to combat the boredom of his new life locked in the Command Center. Whatever the reason for the Commander’s appearance may be, Saul decided to make a point of it.
“And you, Commander," Saul lowered his voice but kept his tone firm. “You were once a proud man- someone I’d follow to the ends of the Earth and in fact did just that. But you’ve fallen further than the rest of them. You’ve fallen so far I don’t think there’s a rope long enough to reach you. And from the very bottom of this deep, deep hole you find yourself in your distant screams echo up and still they bark orders at me. At all of us. You say give in. You say the end has come. You say die. But I say no. I say there’s still hope for us yet. But still you beckon to the others to jump down the hole after you and claim that the journey to the bottom might actually be a nice little vacation. You fool them to forget that once they hit the bottom there’s no going back. You trick them with false promises, but we both know there's only darkness down there. Only darkness and you."
Saul elated at the humiliated man. “Our great Commander," he snickered to the room, then focused back on him again. “You don’t deserve the title anymore. You’re only Richard to me now.”
Richard said nothing and only watched as his fingers curled into his reddened and sweaty palms. He was so tired, and Saul refused to let him sleep.
“The rest of you shouldn’t feel any better than Richard here," continued Saul. “We all still have a job to do. That’s why they picked us. That’s why it’s us instead of them here on this barren world, alive and well. Because we’ve got the minds to build something wonderful here, and even though were broken and hurting and feel helpless, we still have that power. Power like that doesn’t just disappear with the wind. Each one of you still has something burning deep inside that calls for the colony to be built, not for them, not for the dead, but for us. For what's left of us. And you're right to feel sad. We’ve all lost our loved ones back on Earth to the damn war, and we can’t save them like we originally planned. That much is true. But we can save ourselves. That’s just the same. We can save our future if we only step up and grab a hammer and continue to build."
Saul made a hammering motion with his fist. The murmuring audience flinched ever so slightly which each impact of the invisible nail as it buried itself deeper into the invisible plywood. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth Saul’s fist went, beginning to look more like violent punching than anything else. He only stopped when he knew they had enough. His arms limply fell to his side, and he gave a minute's pause to further dramatize the effect.
“It’s our choice, not the dead’s. They don’t define us, but we can still define them."
Suddenly, Asnee lifted himself from the audience and stormed out of the meeting room, knocking over his chair and jolting the already alerted audience. Saul read the minds of the many as they stirred in his aggressive exit.
“Janya should have never been found out there like that. That’s a death I wouldn’t wish on any human being, let alone a friend." Saul mutely gestured to Doctor Novak in the audience. “Her autopsy revealed she was alive for nearly fourteen minutes in the sandstorm. A level six sandstorm! Do you know what that means? That means she felt every pebble and every particle as it cratered itself into her skin. She felt everything. It means that our beloved and young Janya was quite literally stoned to death outside, cold and alone, all while the rest of us were cradled in the warmth of our beds, sleeping away the pain. It means Janya was the first person to die on this world, so far from home. She was the first in the entire human timeline not to die on planet Earth, and if it’s up to me, she will be the last." Saul’s words echoed across the still room. “But I need your help, Liberation of Twenty-One. I need your help before we become the Liberation of Zero, because the longer we wait the lower our number falls, trickling away like the sands in an hourglass. I need each one of you to start working again. I need the builder drones re-activated. I need the city built. I nee-"
“Enough!" broke in an old voice. The Commander was standing tall in the low crowd and meeting eyes with Saul. “That’s enough, Saul!" His yell was all the more deafening than any that came before it.
The audience was captivated, snapping their sights between Saul and the Commander in an effort to forecast the first to fight back. They didn’t expect any theatrics from today's meeting, let alone from the forlorn Commander, and Saul himself was taken aback by his sudden opposition from the invisible man. His muscles tensed, but he remained erect and strong to combat his worthy foe. He chose humor to hide his worry of defeat.
“Ah, and so the runaway returns," Saul smirked. “Welcome back."
It was not enough to ease the uneasiness of the situation. The colonists shuffled in their seats as the Commander returned fire. “Shut your mouth and keep it shut for once, Saul. We’re all tired of hearing your war cries after the fact. The war has ended. It collapsed on itself. It’s done. There’s nothing more worth screaming for, so save your breath."
Saul was relentless and screamed louder. “That’s where you’re wrong! There’s so much to be screaming for! All of us should be screaming, not cowering in the shadows like scared children! The real war is happening as we speak, and it needs soldiers!"
The Commander was much more composed than his counterpart. “There is no war, Saul. The war was lost with Earth. And whether you get this or not, most of us are exactly that: children, not soldiers. Janya was Twenty-six when she died. Twenty-six years old, and neither of us is much older. We’re all just kids that we’re given a mission way beyond our years, and that mission is now over. We were fated to fail. We could have never have fixed the mistakes that thousands of years of corrupt civilization had stacked against us in the first place, and only a fool would think that building a utopia on another planet could possibly save us from an Armageddon we brought onto ourselves. The colony was an idea, a concept, not an actuality. It was a drug to ease the pain of a slow death. It would have never worked, then or now, and the funding corporations and governments back on Earth knew this. The United Nations knew this. The Extraterrestrial Colonial Society knew this. NASA knew this. I know this. It was a lie every step of the way, an expensive one and a well crafted one, but a lie nonetheless. It was meant only to give humanity a hope until its destruction. You must see this now. This was nothing more than a cushion for the fall."
Saul clenched his jaw. “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong. It can still work, and we can still have a future. It’s not your decision to take that away from us."
“We don’t deserve a future. We’ll only end up the same way as we did before. We’ll destroy this planet just like we did the other, and drive ourselves into the ground. We haven’t learned from our mistakes because our mistakes are our nature, human nature, and nature always wins."
“No, you’re wrong. We can overcome nature. We need to start building again. We need the drones expanding the colony. We need our jobs back. We need to keep growing."
“And what, waste what precious energy we have left for a little extra space? No, we’re not doing that. We’re not doing anything. We’re done." The Commander ushered to the hushed audience. “Everyone, go back to your cabins, this show is over."
The crowd began to disperse at his command, and chair legs scarred the ceramic flooring as feet scuffled by. Not a soul wished to be in the room any longer than was necessary and only sought the solace of their mundane usual routine. They wanted to crawl back to the shadows, but Saul was not ready to leave the light just yet.
“No!" he tried. “We’re not done here! We’re not done!"
Few straggled behind, one turned their head in respect, but the rest followed the rethroned Commander out the door and back into the labyrinthine hallways.
It was over after all.
Left alone in the empty room were three: Saul, Hollis, and Autumn. Leaning stoically against the back-wall, Hollis exhaled a long-held breath and watched as Autumn appeared from within the scattered chairs. With grace, she moved from her seat and neared the opposite end of the room, away from Hollis and towards Saul. She paused just before her long-time lover, and they exchanged no words, only the unspoken recognition of defeat. Saul closed his tired eyes in acceptance and rested his heavy head on her shoulder. With the tips of her fingers, Autumn gently stroked his thick blonde hair, untangling the deeply entwined curls that only many sleepless nights could bring. She began humming a calming tune that danced on all the perfect notes. It was some kind of lullaby a mother would sing to her child to cast away a nightmare. Saul was being pulled away from the dark realm of reality and into a melodic sanctuary full of light and love.
As Autumn did this for Saul, Hollis watched from the far side of the space. He closed his own eyes as the trance-inducing hums reached his ears, and for a split-second it was his own dark and dirty hair being unknotted beneath a soothing melody swept from a beautiful woman’s pursed lips. It was his nightmare being washed away, little by little. It was her loving him. Autumn finished her song just in time to see Hollis leave the conference room, his hair still an unkempt mess and his nightmare still advancing.
Somewhere down the long maze of corridors Asnee Rao was swimming his hand against the smooth glass of a fish tank. He moved his hand as if it were a squid, fingers flickering and palm pulsating, and he was puzzled to see the fish inside the tank follow his every movement. A thought haunted him: if these fish indeed thought his hand was a squid, a predator, why were they attracted to it? There was no logical answer to his question besides the commonplace curiosity all creatures seem to have, but there was something beyond curiosity to Asnee. It seemed like the fish were intrigued by the threat the squid possessed, as if it were apart of their biological programming to seek their predators.
Perhaps all living things had an appetite for death, and it was their purpose to see themselves to their personal ends, just as the fish were doing right now before him. They were pursuing their design towards self-destruction. It was another haunting thought of Asnee’s that perhaps he too was leading himself to an end. Apart from his aggravating comment about defining the dead, he liked one thing Saul had said in the meeting
just minutes before: that all of them were leaping into a pit, and only when it was too late would they realize that there would be no way out. Were they no different than the fish inside the aquarium, blinding closing in on a death that lured them?
Asnee stopped with his hand play and itched at the metallic gauze wrapped tightly around his wrists. Soon he would find a way to take the cuffs off, once the scars beneath had healed, but until then he had no choice but to wear them like a prisoner in chains. It was not by his own decision but rather it was the decision of Doctor Novak and Saul Lind who both had him placed on suicide watch directly after his explosive episode the week prior on the hill where Janya was found. The others were concerned that if he were left alone he would do harm to himself, and they were smart in thinking this, however Asnee had an intuition that there would be very few watching him after the results of today's meeting.
An apprehensive Hollis entered the Hub’s relaxation lounge to find his old friend Asnee staring listlessly into the illuminated fish tank. The blue light from the aquarium cast an inhuman glow on Asnee’s profile. The cracks in his skin took a more pronounced depth to them, and Asnee’s eyes twinkled as the water rippled against them casting back their own dark and deep waters. The lounge itself was set up in a way to calm a worried resident, featuring a fully-enclosing aquarium along the perimeter. The space was also surrounded by artificial waterfalls trickling against marble walls and it housed a set of circular couches in a lowered center. The dim lighting set the ambiance and was accompanied by aquatic synths-tones emitted from the room's sound system. It was all meant to bring peace, but Hollis saw it bringing something else entirely. He saw the sadness that dwelled there.
“Asnee. It’s me, Hollis," he said. “The corn guy."
Asnee did not respond and remained entranced by the aquatics. The image reminded Hollis of his father after his mother's death, glued to the static blue of their cheap early twenty-first-century television set. Even in their extreme poverty, his father managed to buy that horrible machine, taking him out of the reality that featured his scared and lonely son and placing him into one featuring supermodels and action adventures. It was his father's disconnect that pushed young Hollis from his home and into the decaying church where he learned what it meant to be connected to something else.
