Goodbye

 “Do you remember this place?” I asked, spreading the blankets over the grass beneath the towering oak tree. It had stood upon this hill, overlooking the small city below, for as long as I could remember. There wasn’t much of a city to look at now; most of it was in flames. No one cared.

“I do,” Sarah said, smiling. “Our first date.”

“How long has it been?” I asked, setting the picnic basket down and taking my seat on the blanket.

“Fifty years today, actually,” she said. “What a strange coincidence.”

I opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of white wine and two glasses. I handed her a glass and worked at the cork, but my hands refused to cooperate. Sarah gently took the bottle and finished the job, handing it back to me. That is the way it works when you spend a lifetime with someone. You finish each other’s sentences; you finish the tasks the other no longer can. You offer a hand here or a word there. I was going to miss that.

“Same time, too,” I said. “Although it doesn’t look like 10:00 p.m., does it?” The sky should have been dark, stars twinkling between the leaves of the massive oak, but instead, it was a glowing soup of light. The stars were hidden behind the glare. We would never see them again.

“Not long now,” she said, taking a long drink. I refilled her glass.

“No,” I said. “Not long. It has been a good life, though. I’m glad I get to say goodbye.”

“You should have gone to the Ark,” she said quietly. “Your number came up.”

“But yours didn’t,” I replied. “And if I remember correctly, the contract said ‘for better or worse.’ I am a lawyer, after all. I know these things.”

She smiled. “It doesn’t get any worse than this,” she said.

“Or better,” I said, reaching over to take her hand. “I have no regrets. We had our ups and downs, but more ups than downs. We had more joy than tears, and for that, I am thankful.”

We could hear it now, a growl at first, then a roar that shook the very air around us. She gripped my hand tighter. “I love you,” she said. “Thank you for being here.”

“I would be nowhere else,” I said. “I love you more than you can know. Thank you for a wonderful life.”

The roar reached a deafening pitch, making talk impossible. I leaned over, kissed her, and held her tight as the shockwave hit.

The Filter

 I sat rigidly in the frontmost chair of two rows, facing a holo display that dominated the front wall of Forward Operating Base Tycho. The briefing room, a barebones prefab, had dull gray plastic walls and ceiling, with a creaky wooden floor. Two squads of recruits filled the rows of metal chairs behind me. The air was hot and heavy in the close quarters. The display showcased a 3D representation of a portion of the Bug hive tunnel system. General Harrison stood by the display, a long silver-metal pointer in hand, intently reading a dispatch, his face etched with frowns.

Behind me were the sound of my fellow recruits' scuffing feet and whispers. I idly listened to the chatter. It was mostly about how Planet 235-C “was a real dump.” It certainly was. The planet was all dry, gray-brown rocks and dirt with the occasional purple scrub brush poking up between the stones. Many of us wondered why this place was so special that we had to fight a war with the Bugs over it. A war that, according to rumors, wasn’t going well for us humans. When we asked why the planet was important, we were told we weren’t paid to ask questions—we were here to fight.

Harrison folded the dispatch, slipped it into his pocket, and turned to the mumbling crowd. “All right, listen up!” he barked. The room fell silent instantly. Tall and stern, Harrison had gray hair cropped close to his skull. He gripped the pointer in his right hand like a sword and stabbed it at the wall projection.

“Deep radar has shown that these two nests,” he said, stabbing the pointer at two large, oval-shaped cavities in the holo display, “are reachable from this entrance.” He stabbed the pointer again. “The tunnel entrance branches about 50 meters in and leads directly to the two nests. Intel suggests that these may be brooding areas, and I want to take out those nests.”

Harrison turned to face the men and women seated on the chairs. “Team Alpha will take the left branch, and Team Bravo will take the right. Given the size of these nests, a single mini-nuke should be enough to take out each one. Make sure you place the nuke in the center of the nest for maximum effect. This is a straightforward operation, but significant opposition is expected as this operation is inside the Hive. Any questions?”

The room fell silent as the gravity of the situation sank into those of us seated on the hard metal chairs. Leading Team Alpha, I felt the weight of responsibility like a physical burden on my shoulders. This wasn’t a complicated operation—in and out, hopefully—but I had heard stories about fighting the Bugs, and none were encouraging.

“All right, then, “ Harrison said. “The drop ship is waiting. Doublel-time!”

I stood up and motioned to my team. “On me!” I called out, heading toward the waiting drop ship. We had all trained together in boot camp, passed all the simulated Bug fights, and the powers-that-be had declared us fit for duty. Were we? This was our first real fight. Neither Team Bravo nor we had been assigned to a squad yet, which was unusual. This mission felt off to me somehow, but I reminded myself I was just out of boot so what did I know?

I admit, I was scared, fear clawing at my gut and mind, and I knew my teammates probably felt the same. Not that any of us would admit we were scared shitless. We talked smack on the way to the drop ships, claiming how easy this would be, but we all knew better. We had all heard the stories. As I jogged toward the waiting ships, I remembered what a veteran, missing an arm, had told me.

“They came at us, wave after wave,” he recounted, his voice filled with horror. “They didn’t stop. I was up front, flaming them to clear a path for the guys behind when a huge crab-like monster snipped off my arm with a massive claw. It didn’t even slow down. I passed out and woke up in the infirmary. I was lucky. They usually take the dead and wounded and do God-knows-what with them.”

I was just a farm boy from the fields of the North American sector, not a soldier. I was decent with a weapon and had a surprising knack for leadership, something I discovered only during boot camp. That's how I ended up being promoted to team leader. I did alright in simulations, but this was the real thing. This was a real game over if I screwed up and not just for me, but for my whole team.

It bothered me we were going in without a squad leader. That wasn't protocol. We should have been assigned to a squad and assigned a staff sergeant as squad leader to lead this mission. As we strapped into the seats of the drop ship, Sammy leaned over to me and motioned me to cut my radio mic. 

“John, you notice we don’t have a squad leader?” he said in a low voice. Sammy was my right hand, a sharp kid who noticed things the other guys didn’t.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Not protocol.”

“They don’t expect us to come back and they don’t want to waste a staff sergeant,” Sammy said. “I heard that the Bugs seem to target leaders. How do the Bugs know who is a leader?”

I had heard the same thing. “Damned if I know,” I said. “They told us they were just Bugs. Nothing more than animals protecting their territory.”

“Bullshit,” Sammy said and leaned back as the drop ship leaped into the air.

It was bullshit. We didn’t need this planet. We were told that a colony had been established to build a refueling station at the edge of human expansion in space. A temporary colony had been set up using prefab plastic and metal buildings to house the construction team for the spaceport. The last hyperwave status report received by the World Council Colony Division stated that the construction team had cleared the land for the landing pad. After that, the colony went dark. The problem with the story was that a refueling station could be built in space; most of them were since it cost fuel to climb out of a planet's gravity well. Something else was going on here.

I leaned over to Sammy. “You think the whole colony thing was a cover?” I asked. “Maybe there is something on this planet the World Council wants and the Bugs are in the way.”

Sammy nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. “They want us to be pest control so they can grab whatever it is. Who cares if you waste a few grunts in the process? It is fucked up if you ask me.”

“That’s a roger,” I said. The red light on the wall started flashing, signaling the five-minute mark. I activated my mic and connected to the rest of the team. “Heads up! Five minutes!”

I slapped Sammy on the leg, and we unstrapped and carefully made our way to the locker near the back of the dropship. I tapped the combination on the keypad and opened the door. Inside, two backpacks hung on the rack, each containing a mini-nuke. I grabbed one backpack and set it carefully on the floor. Attached was a plastic card with the activation code for the mini-nuke. I memorized the code and handed the card to Sammy. He stared at it for a moment before nodding and handing it back. I put the card back in the locker and, picking up the backpack, signaled to the Bravo team leader that I was done. She stood with her second and headed to the locker. I braced my backpack between my feet and waited. The yellow light flashed, signaling one minute to drop. 

"Form up," I ordered. The dropship tilted downward as its engines slowed. I strapped on my backpack, grabbed the rail, and my team fell in line. The yellow light turned green, and the ramp dropped. The dropship was still in the air, its engines roaring as the ramp hit the ground. “Safties off!” I heard the clicks behind me as the safeties were switched off on my team’s auto-rifles. 

"Go!" I barked. We sprinted toward the cave entrance, forming a triangle. I led the point, flanked by two on either side, with two in the rear. Team Bravo followed, and we dashed into the cave's darkness. The dropships roared overhead as we disappeared into the dark labyrinth. I crouched inside, assessing the situation.

“Goggles,” I said quietly, slipped the night-vision goggles over my eyes and the darkness vanished. “Terrance, I want motion detection three-sixty.”

“Roger,” Terrance said.

“Okay, team, in and out,” I said. “We take the left branch at the split. Let’s move, quiet and quick.”

I moved forward on the smooth tunnel floor. The tunnel looked like it had been bored out by some huge machine, but I had never heard of the Bugs using any machines. In the night-vision light, the walls appeared smooth gray-brown, almost polished. The tunnel was an impressive piece of engineering and I wondered how they could create this structure without machinery. 

It only took a couple of minutes to reach the tunnel branch. “Anything on motion?” I asked over the comms. 

“Nothing,” Terrance said. “Damned odd if you ask me.”

“I agree,” I said. “If this tunnel leads to a brooding nest, where are the warrior Bugs? Damn. Okay, let’s move and stay alert.”

It didn’t take long to come to the so-called brooding nest. I paused at the entrance and looked into the cavern. It was empty. “Anything on motion?” I asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Terrance whispered. “The place is clean.”

“What do you think?” Sammy asked. “Plant the nuke anyway?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s the mission. I don’t know what is happening here, but maybe we are lucky. We set the nuke and get our asses out of here. Head to the approximate center, and form a perimeter. I want motion going the whole time. I drop it, arm it and we move out. Any questions?”

No one spoke up over the comms so I stood and whispered, “Go!”

We sprinted to the cavern's approximate center. I ripped open my backpack and removed the nuke. Its sleek, dark casing was capped by a small keypad and display. I began inputting the activation code when Terrance's calm voice crackled over the comms, "Motion above us. They're dropping down from the ceiling!"

I'd barely inputted two digits of the five-digit activation code when a swarm of tiny, biting Bugs descended upon us. I swatted frantically, desperately trying to finish the sequence, but a sharp sting lanced my neck, and a numbing paralysis seized my body.

"They're everywhere!" a panicked voice crackled over the communications. "I can't get a clear shot—" The world went black.

I awoke to a pounding headache, trapped within a circular chamber of slick, smooth rock. A sickly, yellowish glow illuminated the room, emanating from bioluminescent fungus clinging to the sloping walls. A slight smell of decay hung in the air of the room. I was encased, midway up the wall, in a cold, hard, plastic-like substance. The alien material cocooned my body, leaving only my upper torso and head exposed. My hands were immobilized, firmly secured by the strange, transparent bond. My situation did not look good.

A rhythmic clicking sound pierced the room's silence, drawing closer from the pitch-black entrance. I strained to see into the darkness, but the entrance remained a void. The clicking grew louder, and a monstrous creature emerged from the shadows. A flat, disc-shaped abomination, its yellow-green hue illuminated by the fungal light. Four jointed legs, ending in clicking claws, protruded from its underside, propelling it forward. A ring of red, stalked eyes, writhing and pulsating, encircled its perimeter. A large, tubular appendage, rising from its central core, swayed slowly as the creature halted before me.

“This is it,” I thought. “This thing is going to suck my brains out and that will be that.”

"Greetings, human,” a voice echoed from the central tube in perfectly articulated Englese. “I am a speaker, designed to communicate with you.” Several of the creature’s red, stalked eyes fixed on me, their unblinking gaze piercing.

I was dumbfounded. I had braced myself for the worst—a gruesome demise, a violent end. But this? This was beyond my wildest expectations. A creature, alien and monstrous, speaking to me in perfect Englese. 

“You know our language?” I stammered.

“Yes,” the Speaker said. “Your language is quite simple. We have been monitoring your communication since you arrived on our planet.”

“I don’t understand what is happening here,” I said. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, I understand your confusion,” the Speaker said, tapping the ground with its jointed legs. “Let me explain why I am speaking with you.

“Our prior attempts at communication with your species have been unsuccessful in deterring the aggressive actions perpetuated by your Elders against our kind. Your Elders erroneously believe that they can subjugate us to exploit the monopoles that this planet abundantly provides. Your race, like the one before you, is under the mistaken idea that they can conquer us and take the monopoles.”

"Monopoles," I thought. "That explains the intense interest in this planet." Magnetic monopoles, a crucial component of our ships' hyperdrive systems, are rare. If this planet was rich in monopoles, it could revolutionize interstellar exploration.

“What do you mean by the ‘race before us’?” I asked. 

"Millions of years ago, according to your form of measurement, a reptilian species visited our planet. They had several of the same genetic markers as your species has within your genome. These markers suggest a common planetary origin for both species," the Speaker explained. "It is unusual for two intelligent species to evolve on the same planet. Considering you are here, I assume the reptilian race is extinct."

I stared at the Speaker, shocked by what it said. Had there been a reptilian civilization that existed millions of years ago on Earth? It was then that the statement hit me. “You have been on this planet for millions of years?” I asked, shocked at what this creature had casually stated.

"Far longer," the Speaker replied. "In your unit of measurement, it has been billions of years. We have fully colonized the galaxy and are currently colonizing the nearest galaxy, known to you as the Canis Major Dwarf Galaxy.

"Our species was the progenitor of life within this galaxy," the Speaker said. "Emerging shortly after the galaxy's formation, our civilization began ten billion years ago. We have endured such an extended period by embracing the biological path, rather than the technological one. The technological path is an evolutionary dead-end, as countless civilizations have demonstrated. The laws of the universe inherently favor biological systems over technological ones. We have mastered genetic engineering, both our own and that of other species, allowing us to create and utilize biological systems that far surpass those built upon technology.

"Therefore, I trust you understand that we do not perceive your aggression as an existential threat. Your presence on our planet is an inconvenience that we must rectify, but it poses no genuine danger. I urge you to convey this message to your Elders one final time. If they fail to heed this warning, we will be compelled to implement pest-control measures. Given your race’s unique circumstances, we would prefer a peaceful resolution."

I was stunned, the Speaker's words echoing in my mind. A civilization so ancient, so powerful, controlling galaxies and interstellar space. We were mere ants, challenging a cosmic giant. "I will convey your message," I said quietly.

The Speaker screeched loudly in a strange pattern. A massive crab-like creature, armed with enormous claws, entered the chamber and faced the Speaker. The Speaker responded with screeches and warbles and then turned to me.

"This servitor will escort you to the complex's entrance," the Speaker said. "There, you may contact your people. You will not be harmed. Please relay our warning to your Elders." The Speaker scuttled out of the room on its spindly legs, disappearing into the darkness. 

I stared at the crab creature, wondering how it was going to get me to the cave entrance since I was stuck to the rock wall, encased in this hard, plastic substance. It reached up with a giant claw, grabbed the plastic casing around me, and peeled me from the wall like a sheet of wallpaper. Holding me tightly in its claw, it sped into the darkness of the tunnel.

The tunnel was a black abyss. I couldn't see a thing, only feel the relentless forward motion, the cool air flowing past me in a rush. The creature's legs, a machine-gun staccato against the rock, punctuated the darkness. We careened through the tunnel, a jarring, terrifying ride. Distant echoes of other creatures—taps, screeches, warbles—flashed past us and then faded into the void. After some unknown time, a glimmer of light splashed on the walls, and we were in blinding sunlight. I slammed my eyes shut in the intense glare. I felt myself falling and grunted when I hit the ground.

I heard a sickening gurgle, felt a splash of warm liquid on my face, and a horrid, stomach-churning smell like rancid meat. The hard casing around me dissolved, leaving me wet and sticky. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I slowly opened them. I was lying in front of the cave entrance on the dusty, gray-brown earth. A small rock jabbed into my back, so I raised myself to a sitting position. As my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, I saw that I was completely alone.

I pressed the recall button on my harness, and it beeped. The small transmitter woven into the fabric should be broadcasting a distress call along with my coordinates. Standing on wobbly legs, I found a large rock a few meters from the cave entrance. I sat down, leaning back against the rock, my wet shirt and pants slowly drying in the warm, yellow sunlight. I closed my eyes and let the warmth seep into me.

A thundering roar jolted me awake. Above me, a black dropship descended on two blue-yellow flames, filling me with relief and joy. The hot jets on its stubby wings pointed downward, kicking up a cloud of dust and flying stones. I scrambled to my feet and headed toward the back of the descending ship, using my arm to shield my face from the debris. As I reached the ship, the ramp lowered, and two Military Police appeared, scanning the terrain, their auto rifles held ready.

“MPs?” I thought, my relief giving way to growing anxiety. Neither man said a word as I strapped myself into a seat.

“I wasn’t expecting MPs,” I said. “This normal?”

They looked at each other, and one replied, “There isn’t anything normal about this place. You’re heading to debriefing.” If I was going straight to debriefing, then leadership knew the situation. That meant someone else had made it out before me.

“Did anyone else make it out?” I asked. Hopefully, the rest of the team had spoken to the Speaker, been given the same information, and been released.

“Yeah,” the MP said, and that was the end of the conversation. The ride back to the FOB was tense.

The next week was strange and unnerving. I was hustled back to the FOB, put in a room, given a writing tablet, and told to enter my mission brief. Once that was done, I was given clean clothes and put on a shuttle to an orbiting freighter, then sent back to Earth. The only people I saw at the FOB were the MPs. On the freighter, I was assigned a room and told to stay put. My meals were brought to me. I didn’t see anyone except the MP who was my escort. The big-wigs didn’t want me talking to anyone.

On Earth, I was escorted to a large, boxy building made of concrete slabs, surrounded by a wide, empty plaza of concrete sidewalks. The building had no windows and rose from the ground like a concrete mountain, seemingly a part of the earth itself. I recognized it immediately: Central Intelligence. Things were getting serious.

My MP escort, who had said maybe half a dozen words since I left the Bug planet, escorted me inside the windowless box. The MP handed the front desk some papers, which were checked and stamped. Then, I was escorted to a room with a table, a glass of water, and what could only be a two-way mirror on one wall—a standard interrogation room. The MP motioned me to sit in the chair facing the two-way mirror. 

“It will be a few minutes,” he said.

I nodded as he walked out of the room stiffly, pausing at the door to glance at me before disappearing as the door swung shut behind him. It was the first time he had shown even a bit of interest in me. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in the chair.

It was becoming clear that the higher-ups knew more about the Bugs than they were telling us. The Speaker had said this was the final warning. Leadership had to have known for some time that the Bugs were sentient. They didn’t want that information to get out to the public. The World Council wanted the monopoles on the planet and they were willing to wipe out the indigenous creatures to get them. It was a story as old as humanity, maybe older, if a reptilian race had existed on Earth millions of years ago.

I wondered if they were planning to erase me to maintain the secrecy. It would be easy to claim I had been killed in action, but then why send me back to Earth? Would they go to all this trouble just to kill me and dump my body in an incinerator? It didn’t seem likely.

The door opened, and a woman dressed in the black and gray uniform of the intelligence bureau entered the room. She smiled at me and sat at the table, holding the writing tablet with my mission brief. With blonde hair and blue eyes, she could have been a model instead of an intelligence officer. I was immediately on my guard.

She extended her hand. “I am Sarah,” she said. I shook her hand, firmly and nodded.

“I am sure you know who I am,” I said.

She smiled again. “Yes, I do. Quite the adventure, it seems,” she replied, holding the tablet. “This would make a great holo story.”

“A documentary maybe?” I said.

She looked at me, her eyes scanning my face, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I was thinking of a fun space opera,” she said. “To be honest, I’ve seen this a few times before. Not very compelling.”

“Eyewitness accounts aren’t compelling?” I asked.

“I was a police officer before I joined the service,” she said. “You’d be surprised how many different descriptions you get from eyewitnesses about an incident. It usually ends up being quite different from what the witnesses thought.”

“So, what I saw and heard didn’t happen?” I asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

“No, I wasn’t implying that you didn’t experience what you related in your briefing,” she said, her face a mask of concern. “It just may not be what you think.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, let’s examine a few points in your briefing,” she said. “Take the statement by the Speaker, as you call the creature, about there being a billion-year-old civilization on the planet. Did you see any evidence of that civilization?”

“I assumed it was all underground,” I replied. “The tunnels were dark. I couldn’t see anything.”

“Quite so,” she said. “So, you had to take the Speaker’s word on this?”

“Yes,” I said slowly.

“The Speaker also said that they had colonized the whole galaxy,” she said. “It claimed they were a progenitor race. Correct?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, we have searched the galaxy, using very sophisticated equipment, for evidence of this so-called galactic civilization,” she said earnestly. “We have yet to find any evidence to support this claim. The anomalies we have found can be explained by our cosmological theories and don’t require a galactic civilization.”

“Well, they seem to live underground,” I said. “Maybe they don’t use the surface.”

“Possible,” she said. “Yet there should be some evidence, wouldn’t you agree? Every civilization produces by-products that inevitably can be detected in a planet's atmosphere. There should be some evidence out there. Yet, we don’t see it.”

“The Speaker said that they used biological systems not technological systems,” I offered. It didn’t sound convincing even to me.

“Yes, we’ve heard that as well,” she said, nodding. “Biological or technological, the principle still applies. Civilizations produce by-products, and those by-products eventually permeate the entire planet. When we look across the galaxy using our telescopes and sensors, we don’t see any indication of a vast galactic-wide civilization.”

“Well, the Speaker did speak to me in perfect Englese,” I said. “That has to count for something.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “But I’m afraid that may not be what you think.”

“What?” I asked. “I heard it!”

She pressed her lips together, looking apologetic. “That was probably just a hallucination. We think the Bugs can produce a gas that causes people to hallucinate. It’s a defense mechanism, like the spray of a stink bug.”

“It was all in my head?” I asked.

“Yes, probably,” she said, nodding. “But let’s assume, for the moment, that the Speaker did talk to you and told you all these things. Did the Speaker offer any proof?”

“No,” I replied. “It seemed to consider us a very primitive species.”

“If I just came up to you on the street and you had never seen me before and told you I had all these fantastic superpowers, what would you think?” she asked.

“I would think you were crazy,” I said slowly.

“And rightly so,” she said. “The Speaker didn’t offer any proof of what it said. Why believe it any more than a person claiming superpowers?”

“I, I…” I stammered, unsure what to say. She had me neatly backed into a corner. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was all in my head. I honestly didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” I said finally.

She reached over and patted my hand in a motherly fashion. “I know it’s a tough one,” she said. “You’re here so we can have this talk. I know it felt real and convincing to you, as it does to many. Once people exposed to these convincing hallucinations are told the inconsistencies of what they believe, they usually realize it isn’t true. Not all, unfortunately, but most. I think you know now that what you thought isn’t true.”

“Wow,” I said. “I see what you mean. The whole thing is crazy now that I think about it. It felt so real though.”

“Yes,” she said, “it’s a challenge for us. We are working on a way to counter the influence of this drug in our operations. In the meantime, we will continue to counsel those who come under its influence. You will be put on medical leave for now. I will schedule another counseling session soon. In the meantime, rest and enjoy time with your family.”

“Thank you,” I said.

She beamed a smile at me. “That’s what I’m here for,” she said. “Take care now.”

I had to sign several papers, mostly agreeing that the incident did not happen and all information was classified. If I spoke about any of this to anyone, I could end up in a cell for the rest of my life. They claimed it was all about keeping misinformation about the Bug war under wraps. Right.

As the robotaxi pulled up in front of my parent's house, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. I was on indefinite medical leave, so I would be staying at my parents' house until this was resolved. A minefield was still ahead of me and I couldn’t see where my path was going, but at least I could forget about it all in the short term.

My problem was that Sarah’s argument applied equally to her and her version of the events. I had no evidence that what she told me was true. The World Council controlled the media, controlled the scientists, and controlled the information. Her story could be fiction as much as she claimed what happened to me was fiction. How would I know?

I was going to have to be careful. You didn’t fool around with Central Intelligence, but that was for another day. My concern faded when my mom answered the door, giving me a big, hard hug. “Honey, it is so good to see you,” she said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“What’s going on?” I asked as she dragged me into the living room. My dad and sister were staring at the holovision on the wall, engrossed in a news broadcast. My dad looked up and nodded, then turned back to the holoscreen.

“The World Council has issued an emergency declaration,” the newscaster said. “All citizens are required to shelter in place until further notice. The disease, called Disease X by the medical community, is highly contagious and has a near one-hundred percent fatality rate. So far, there is no known treatment.”

My blood ran cold. The words of the Speaker echoed in my mind. “...we will be compelled to implement pest-control measures.”

The House That Cared About You

 The darkness in the room was absolute; however, there was sound. A constant background hum that never wavered, never changed tone. The darkness and the hum had existed for a long time, uninterrupted, until light flickered on in the room.

The light was dim. It shone along the length of a pod where a naked man lay sleeping. The man lay motionless. Time passed. Then, his eyes flickered open. He still didn’t move; he just lay in the pod, staring up through the glass at the darkness.

“Can you hear me, John?” a female voice asked. The sound came from a pair of small speakers near his head, close to his ears. The voice was soft, almost a whisper. John slowly nodded. For some reason, he could not speak.

“Good,” the voice said. “Do not worry about your paralysis. It will pass. It is a side effect of the stasis chamber. It will take some time for your body to adjust. This is normal.”

John nodded again. He had no sense of time, but he could feel his body waking up as if he had been sleeping for an eternity. The pod chamber hissed open, and the room's lights flickered on. The light remained dim, leaving most of the room in shadow.

“Do not try to get up yet. Your body is quite weak,” the voice said. “I am coming to help you out of the chamber.”

John heard a door open and footsteps cross the room. A face appeared over his, lit by the glow within the chamber. It was a woman’s face: green eyes, a petite nose, and thin lips. She had red hair that was backlit by the dim ceiling lights. “I am going to help you up,” she said. “Take it slow. Your muscles will be very weak.”

He felt her grip his body and gently lift him to a sitting position. “I am going to move your legs over so I can put you in a wheelchair,” she said.

John stared at her. Her face was that of a normal woman, but her body was metal that gleamed in the faint light. “You aren’t human,” he said weakly, finding his voice.

She smiled. “No, I am the artificial intelligence that runs your house,” she said. “This is my mobile avatar.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I can’t seem to remember anything.”

“Memory loss is a normal side-effect of the stasis pod,” she said. “It is temporary.”

“Stasis pod?” he asked. “I don’t understand.” 

“I know,” she said. “It isn’t anything to worry about at the moment. You are in good hands. Now, I am going to slide your legs over the edge. I have the wheelchair right here.”

She pivoted his legs over, then lifted him into the wheelchair. “There we go,” she said. “You are going to be thirsty and hungry in a few minutes, so I am going to get you a nutrient tube. I am afraid you will be on nutrient tubes for a day or two until your digestive system starts working properly. I will be back in a few minutes.”

John nodded. He could move his fingers and toes, but it took tremendous effort. He sat in the wheelchair and looked around. The lights seemed a bit brighter now, revealing what looked like a hospital room. Instead of a hospital bed, there was the opened pod; on the wall, several screens displayed readouts of his vital signs. The walls were a light blue, and the floor and ceiling were off-white tile. There were no windows, only a metal door opening to a hallway of the same clinical colors. John could not see the end of the hall.

This all seems so familiar, John thought. Not just the room, but the whole process, including the android. He had no direct memory of it, only a heavy sense of déjà vu. He had a thousand questions, but his mind refused to provide any answers.

The android returned with a silver tube and placed it in his hand. There was a small nozzle on the top that he slowly guided to his mouth. He squeezed, tasting a pleasant paste. He couldn’t identify the flavor, but as he swallowed, his stomach responded instantly. He was starving, it seemed.

“I can give you another one in an hour,” the android said. “Slow and easy for now.”

He finished the paste and she took the empty tube. “You said this is my house?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “You have lived here for quite a while.”

“It looks like a hospital.”

“This is the medical room,” she explained. “There is also your living quarters and an exercise room.”

“Why was I in stasis?” he asked. “And for how long?”

“It won’t make much sense to you right now,” the android said. “When you start to regain your memory, the situation will clarify itself.”

“It all seems so familiar, like I have done this before.”

The android smiled. “That is a good sign.”

“What is your name?” he asked. His mind naturally identified the android as a “she” rather than an “it.”

“My name is Sharon.”

“Sharon,” he repeated. Yes, that felt right. Why?

“I am going to take you to your living quarters now,” Sharon said. “You should be able to move around soon. There are clothes for you as well. You will be a bit chilly going around naked.”

He looked down at himself. He hadn’t even noticed.

She wheeled him down the hall. The hallway remained dark except for the section directly outside his room. The quarters were small but comfortable: a bed against one wall, a large screen on the opposite wall, a closet, a nightstand, and a table with an overstuffed chair. The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air. 

She wheeled him beside the bed and walked to the closet. He noticed she had covered her silver body with a white lab coat and light blue pants. She looked like a doctor. She. He thought of the android as "she," which was strange but felt natural. A “mobile avatar,” she had called it. That implied the AI wasn’t contained inside the construct, but merely used it to interact with him.

Sharon brought back a light blue shirt, brown pants, and slippers with rubber treads. “There isn’t much of a selection,” she said, bending down to slide the slippers on his feet. “These are made from processed algae. The engineers didn’t think fashion was a priority.”

She helped him dress. After she moved him to the armchair, she pulled a walker from the closet and set it in front of him. “This to help you get around,” she said. “I’m going to get another nutrient tube. Be right back.”

Once she left, he gripped the walker and tried to stand. He managed to get to his feet, but it took a staggering amount of effort. How long was I in stasis? The room felt familiar, yet he couldn't remember ever being in it. His short-term memory was fine, but his long-term memory was a vault he couldn't crack. Memory loss was a known side-effect of cryogenic suspension, he thought.

He paused. Sharon hadn’t used the words "cryogenic suspension." The fact that his mind phrased it that way felt like a breakthrough.

She returned with more paste. “I will return hourly,” Sharon said. “Your body should start responding soon. You will likely need to use the bathroom as your system processes the nutrients.”

She pressed a hidden button on the wall. A panel slid aside to reveal a toilet and shower. “If you want a shower, let me know. The toilet is self-explanatory.” She smiled and closed the door.

He chuckled at the small joke. “They programmed you with a sense of humor?”

“Sort of,” she said. “It’s a bit involved, so I’ll save that for later. Today is for nutrients and mobility.”

The day passed in a blur of slow walks and movies from the room's library.

“Are there any news channels?” he asked.

“No, this is all we have,” she said. “The main library has extensive technical information, but it isn’t available on this screen.”

“No news or current events? That seems strange.”

“It is a limitation of our current state,” she said. “Now, let’s get you moving.”

By the end of the day, he finally had to use the bathroom. “Don’t be alarmed,” she warned as the door slid open. “You haven’t used these bodily systems in a while.”

When he finished, he saw that his stool was black and stringy. “That is disgusting,” he said, emerging from the bathroom.

“Once you start eating solid food, things will return to normal,” she said with a small smile.

Exhausted, John fell asleep the moment he climbed into bed.

The sky was on fire. A roiling mass of pure heat, as if the sun had touched the Earth. Chunks of molten rock rained down like bombs, digging massive craters into the ashen ground. The heat melted everything: buildings, cars, people. He couldn't hear the screams over the roar of the sky. A sound that went on for eternity.

John woke with a start. He stared at the soft overhead lights, feeling the cool sheets and hearing the hum of the ventilation. He was safe, but the horror of the dream clung to him. Was it a warning? Or just a fragment of a forgotten movie?

“Time, please,” he whispered.

“7:43 in the morning,” Sharon’s voice came over the speakers. “I will be there shortly.”

He swung his legs out of bed. He could move without the walker now, though his legs remained shaky. When Sharon arrived, she was smiling. “Time to get you back in shape.”

She led him out into the hallway. A doorway had appeared across from his bedroom. It wasn’t there yesterday. He could see the room had an array of exercise equipment. “I have a schedule that will get you back into physical shape,” Sharon said. “I am going to be your trainer. If you will follow me.”

The following days were defined by the exercise room. Treadmills, then weights. The nutrient tubes were replaced by "normal" food, stuff that looked like turkey or Salisbury steak. Sharon admitted it was all processed algae, but it tasted close enough to the real thing. At night, the dreams of fire returned.

He had been working out for several days, following the routine Sharon had created for him, when a memory struck him while he was lifting weights. It came out of nowhere. He saw himself sitting at a desk, a monitor in front of him. Numbers scrolled across the screen above the words: NEURAL SCAN 75% COMPLETE. Then, the memory faded. Shaken, he sat on the floor, the weights thudding onto the rubber mat.

By the end of the week, his strength had returned, but so had a sense of claustrophobia. During a break, he wandered out into the hallway. The lights stopped at the door of the exercise room. He stepped into the darkness, letting his eyes adjust. The hallway was empty, ending abruptly in a blank wall.

“That’s it?” he muttered. He touched the wall and felt a faint vibration. Pressing his ear to the metal, he heard the rhythmic thrum of heavy machinery.

“There is quite a bit of equipment necessary to keep this place running,” Sharon said from behind him. He jumped and whirled around. She was watching him with an intensity that felt decidedly un-mechanical.

“When can I go outside?” he demanded. “There are no windows, no exits. I don’t even know what this place is. You said my memory would return, but I still have nothing! What am I doing here?”

She was silent for a moment. “You have been dreaming,” she said.

The non-sequitur rattled him. Another memory flashed: a hospital bed, a hand reaching for his, a monitor beeping slowly. A wave of intense grief washed over him. He walked back to his room, sat in the chair, and began to cry. Sharon stood in the doorway, her metal body gleaming like a statue. He cried for a long time.

“This isn’t a prison,” Sharon said, walking toward the display screen. “It is an Ark.”

The screen flickered to life. A woman appeared: red hair, green eyes, wearing a lab coat. John looked from the screen to the android. “You are her,” he whispered.

“In a manner of speaking,” Sharon said. “I am a neural image of her, contained within an artificial brain housed within this facility…”

The words neural image echoed in his mind. Suddenly, the dam broke.

He was sitting on a balcony at the Ark complex. A bottle of red wine sat between them. The sun was dipping below the horizon, splashing the sky with crimson. The air smelled of lilac. John looked up at the stars and saw the comet. A hard, bright point of light. The Hammer.

“I had an idea,” John said in the memory, grasping her hand. “What if we put you in cryogenic stasis?”

“What would be the point?” Sharon asked. She pointed to the sky. “It’s the end of the world, John. There isn’t going to be a cure for my cancer for a very long time.”

“I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You have my neural scan,” she reminded him. “The artificial brain is functioning perfectly. It’s weird, actually, talking to myself.”

“I don’t want a doll that looks like you,” he snapped. “I want you.”

“I know,” she said softly, “but we can’t waste resources. We don’t even know if the Ark will work. Out of a million pods, we’ll be lucky if a third make it.”

“We only need a third,” he said. “The design is solid. They’ll last 500 years.”

“I’m not worried about the surface,” she said. “The bots will terraform that. I’m worried about the shockwave. It’s going to bounce through the bedrock for years.”

“It will work,” he insisted. “It has to.”

The memory faded. He could remember everything. John looked at the android, the avatar of his late wife’s mind. “How many pods are functional?”

“Seventy percent,” she replied.

“How long?”

“It has been four hundred years since impact. The nuclear winter lasted longer than we hoped because of the volcanic activity, but terraformation is progressing well now.”

“So it worked,” he said. “She would have been so happy.”

“I know,” the AI said. “Now that your memory has returned, I have prepared the schedule for the release of the Ark families. The revival team is awake and regaining their memories. We are on schedule.”

John stood up, his legs finally feeling like his own. He looked at the avatar, the woman who was both his wife and his creation. She wasn’t the real thing, but close enough.

“Time to get to work,” he said.