The Quiet at the End of the World

by Lauren James

  Thank you SO much for your help – you’re a life-saver!

  MyWaves05

  60% of the staff at my hospital are BGs now. It’s really great, seeing this new blood come in. I’ve heard a few rumours about BG bullying in the workplace from older generations who’ve not had much interactions with BGs before. It’s sad – I’m 50, but I still feel like one of the young ones!

  Posted on 16 Jul 2055

  Silentstar on 16 Jul 2055

  Replying to @MyWaves05

  Bigots. My Jason has had some of that. He works in programming, and apparently the rest of the (fully biological) team think it’s strange for a BG to work on software advances for Babygrows – like he wouldn’t want to help to fix the flaws in his own system? It’s ridiculous.

  MyWaves05

  Ah, this list brings back memories. I’m feeling so nostalgic now that Darcy has moved out. I’m definitely getting some empty-nest syndrome!

  Posted on 24 May 2057

  LISTICLEUNIVERSE.COM

  12 MOST ICONIC BABYGROW

  SOFTWARE UPDATES

  To celebrate the 30-year anniversary of the Babygrow, we’re sharing our favourite mods for everyone’s favourite software.

  12 – The Mod that Wasn’t

  Lasting a grand total of six hours, this BG update back in 2041 sent all children into unstoppable hysterics before being recalled. The constant laughter occurred after an inaccurate calculation massively overexaggerated the parameters of the humour sensitivity.

  Read more

  MyWaves05

  My daughter surprised us all by announcing at dinner that she’s applied to become a police officer. It was unexpected, but it makes a lot of sense in hindsight. She’s always wanted to help people. I was a bit worried that 28 is quite old to start a new career, but she said that everyone else in training is a similar age.

  Posted on 4 Oct 2061

  MyWaves05

  What a milestone. It’s so cool to think that a lot of us were the early BG adopters. Look how far we’ve come since then!

  Posted on 16 Apr 2070

  NEWSBREAKING.COM

  BABYGROW GENERATION OFFICIALLY OUTNUMBERS BIOLOGICAL POPULATION

  Today the UK census results were announced and officially confirmed what has been suspected for a while now: there are more adults aged 18–45 who were created using Babygrow software than those who were born naturally.

  There haven’t been any UK biological births for the last two decades. The last biological child was born in Canada three years ago. It doesn’t seem likely that the fertility issues will be fixed in time for the statistics to be reversed any time soon. Meanwhile, the babygrows are filling a vital void in the healthcare industry, which desperately needed professionals to care for the ageing biological population.

  On a personal note, this site is soon to be run by an entirely Babygrow-populated newsgroup, as our last “bio”, our opinions writer, is due to retire this week as she turns 75. You can leave her a goodbye message here.

  CHAPTER 33

  We go home, leaving Feng and Dad to wake up everyone else. We managed to save them all. It’s hard to believe we really did it. It doesn’t feel real.

  The first thing we do when we get home is take Victoria and Albert, who’ve been home alone all night, for a walk. Even when you find out that your species has long been extinct and everything you know is a lie, life goes on.

  I expect things to look different now. But even though everything about our world has changed, my home is still the same as ever. I walk through the halls, staring around me with fresh eyes, like I’m in a dream. Three hundred years older than I thought. Three hundred?

  When we get back from our walk, Shen and I do our traditional standing-at-the-fridge-door-eating-everything-we-can-grab. It’s nearly three p.m., and I haven’t eaten anything other than a hasty ham sandwich since the day before. I was too distracted kissing Shen in the helicopter to even think about food. Shen and I haven’t mentioned the kisses since then, and the thought of discussing it makes my stomach flip over with nerves.

  When we’re full, and the kitchen bots are beeping at us in fury, Jia ushers us upstairs. She makes Shen and I have baths before she inspects our injuries. The water is completely brown with dirt and dust and blood and sweat by the time I get out.

  “I think you’ll live,” she declares after giving us both full medical check-ups.

  “Jia, can I ask something?” I say carefully.

  “Of course, poppet.”

  “You know the vaults? Why did the locks not let Babygrows inside? Surely the people who made them must have had Babygrow children.”

  Jia sighs. “I’m sure they did. But it never – how do I explain this? It never occurred to them, or us, or anyone, that the Babygrows would ever be the only ones left. We are designed to be used by humans. We exist to give them children. The idea of us being here after all the humans are gone – it was just unimaginable. There’s no point to us without them.”

  “But that’s – that’s awful!” I say, aghast. “They loved you. Why wouldn’t they want you to live on without them? How could they lock spare body parts away from you like that?”

  “It’s not a matter of love,” Jia says. “It genuinely wouldn’t have occurred to them. The vaults were designed to stay closed for thousands of years until they were needed by humans far in the future. The idea that Babygrows would still be around by then doesn’t make sense. Either humans would be able to have biological children again, and so there would be no need for Babygrows, or humans wouldn’t fix the infertility and we’d all go extinct. There’s no third option – where only Babygrows would still be around thousands of years from now. There was never a future where we would still be here to even need to get inside the vaults.”

  “There should be a third option,” Shen says fiercely. He’s been listening quietly up until now. “That’s wrong. You make it sound like you’re some kind of servant or convenience. That’s not what you are at all.”

  Jia cups his cheek. “Our parents needed us, and we were there for them until the day they died. That is what we were for. That’s something to be happy about, not get upset over. Now, get some sleep, both of you! We can talk about this tomorrow. You’ve had a busy day.” She kisses us both on the cheek and leaves.

  Shen and I stare at each other. It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since we kissed – since we did so much kissing, after I’d tried so hard for years to do none at all. I’ve already forgotten how to kiss him. It felt so easy in the heat of the moment, but now it feels impossible. What if it’s not as good as last time? What if it was adrenalin and beginner’s luck, and now it’ll be just awkward and painful and wet (and the wrong kind of wet, not the nice shivery kind)?

  Although last time I was covered in dirt and dust and blood and he still wanted to kiss me. Maybe even if I have forgotten the general process of kissing, he’ll still want to do it.

  We stare at each other some more, until finally, Shen huffs a sigh and pats the space next to him – he’s sitting on the end of my bed. I reluctantly sit down by his side, staring straight ahead.

  He leans in and hesitates, biting his lip. Summoning my courage, I turn towards him and then reach out and hook a finger into the collar of his plaid pyjamas, pulling him in the last centimetre.

  He exhales against my lips, bringing a hand to my face and hovering above the skin, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch me. I tilt my head, pressing my cheek against his hand.

  I’m close enough to see the hairs on his lower lip, the scarring of old spots on his nose. I breathe in the scent of mint from his mouth, waiting for the grossness to kick in. Now that we’re back home, I expect the instinctive this is Shen, what are you doing! fear to take over. But there’s nothing except warmth and surprising ease. I lean in, pressing our lips together. When my lower lip catches between his, I almost gasp. It’s too much, too intimate.

  Shen sighs into my mouth, and I feel the warm tip of
his tongue skim across my lip. My whole body relaxes. I twist closer, reaching up to wrap my hand in the front of his shirt. His fingers slip into the soft, thin hair at the back of my head, and he tugs, just enough to encourage me in the right direction.

  Shen sucks on my lip, then does that thing with his tongue again: small touches and long, wide swipes. When his teeth nip at the skin around my mouth, a moan bubbles out of me. It rises up my throat and crosses from my mouth to his. His tongue dips into the gap between my front teeth.

  I pull away and wipe at the tender dampness of my mouth. “Good. Good, that was – that was good.” I wince. Why did I say that? What am I going to do next, mark him out of ten?

  “Yeah,” he says, voice grinding like pebbles on a beach. I catch sight of the vivid red blush of his lips, roughened by our kiss. “Good work, team.” He sounds slightly stunned, like he also hadn’t thought it would work the second (third? fourth?) time around.

  It definitely worked. My stomach is still twisting over itself.

  “Do you want to – shall we get into bed?” I can’t look away from his lips. Why can’t I look away from his lips?

  He turns to me with wide eyes.

  “To sleep,” I add quickly.

  “Oh God please yes,” he says in a rush, like I said the sexiest thing in the world. “I’m exhausted. I’m – I think I’m about to pass out right here, actually.”

  I wriggle my way into the smooth silk sheets with a newfound appreciation for the luxury of non-cave, non-helicopter surfaces. Earlier I placed the ice-age figurine on my dressing table, next to the locket that Mitch found.

  There’s an empty space in front of the fireplace where Mitch should be, and it hurts my heart. I only knew him for a few days, but it felt like he was part of the family. I roll over, turning to face Shen, so I can’t see the lonely hearth. It’s strange to have him in my bed for real, instead of as a video call. I can feel the weight of him tugging on the bedding. It’s nice.

  “What do you think the original Lowrie and Shen were like?” I ask.

  “What?” He lifts his head. “Sorry, can we swap sides? I won’t be able to hear you if we lie like this.” I snort and roll over him so he can take my side. This time, he lies down with his hearing ear facing upwards. I repeat my question in a whisper.

  “I don’t know. Nice, I think.” Shen’s hand slides across the sheets and wraps around mine, lacing our fingers together. “Your donor must have been very beautiful.”

  I’d wondered for a while if Maya might be my DNA donor, but I don’t think she was. The odds alone make it implausible. I like the idea, though. I smile at the ceiling. A golden cherub smiles back.

  Out of all the buildings in London and the world, I wonder why Mum and Dad still live here. What kind of person would I be now, if they’d chosen to raise me in a normal terraced house instead of Mum’s ancient ancestral manor? Would I have appreciated what I had, instead of taking everything for granted?

  Maybe if I hadn’t been given my every desire at the very moment that I wanted it for my whole life, I would have thought to question my world a little more. Shen too. We might have noticed all the secrets and fake histories a lot sooner, but keeping us happy kept us oblivious, living from day-to-day in an entertainment bubble.

  I’m sure Mum and Dad didn’t do it maliciously. They loved me and wanted me to be happy – so they gave me the world. But I never needed the whole world. I just needed them. That was always enough.

  I suppose the opulence does suit Mum’s personality exactly, though. I can’t imagine her anywhere else other than here.

  “I hope our DNA donors knew each other. I can’t imagine having to live without you.”

  He breathes in. “Lowrie...”

  “We haven’t had any time to talk about what this is, between us,” I say, soft and quiet in the warm comfort. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to call this a relationship yet, but I think that if Shen is anything, he’s the opposite of the kind of person who runs at a sign of commitment. It isn’t possible for me to say anything here that might make him think I’m moving too fast. There’s no such thing.

  “I love you,” he replies immediately. “I’ve always loved you, my whole life, ever since we were children. I didn’t think this was what you wanted, so I never said anything. But I’ve always wanted this.”

  “You have?” I whisper, unable to believe it. “But – you can’t have done. When did you realise? Have you always known?”

  He closes his eyes. “Not consciously but deep down, yes. I saw you sitting on the patio one morning last summer in those flannel pyjamas, hair unbrushed and Victoria in your lap. You were wrinkling your nose as you forced down a cup of coffee. The kind you don’t actually like but make yourself drink because that’s what grown-ups do. And that’s when I knew I wanted to wake up every day seeing you like that.”

  I close my eyes, drawing in a long, shuddering breath while I try to memorize every word of his reply. When he reaches out to cup my cheek, I look at him again. “I feel the same, obviously. I didn’t want to do anything about it for a long time, though. I was scared that if we did this and it failed, I’d lose everything. It felt safer to not try. But of course I love you too. And I’m ready now. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

  Shen’s eyes fill with tears. He leans forward and touches our foreheads together, aligning our noses and finally our lips. We kiss until my mouth feels sore, until my breath hitches.

  “How did I nearly miss out on this?” I whisper.

  “I would have waited. I would wait for ever for you. You feel like home to me, Lowrie.” Shen curls around me, pulling the duvet over us. He speaks into the darkness, slowly weighing each word before setting them free. He tells me all the things he must have kept hidden for years and years, waiting until the day I was finally ready to hear them.

  “You’re rooted so deeply into me, into the person I am – my opinions and sense of humour and feelings – that I think if you were torn away from me now, there would be nothing left of me at all,” he says, voice sleep-soft and heavy, utterly relaxed. Not even one part of him is scared of revealing his heart to me. He trusts me completely, like he knows on some deep subconscious level that I would never hurt him, not even by accident.

  At long last, I realise how wrong I was to be scared of this. I could never lose Shen, no matter how hard I tried. He’s mine, and I’m his, and that’s never going to change. Not if we’re the last humans on the planet or just two of billions. I am him, and he is me. Regardless of heartache and romance and friendship, that’s how it’s always going to be.

  OXFORDDAILYGAZETTE.COM

  OBITUARY OF RIZ STEVENS

  It is with great sadness that the family of Riz Stevens announces his passing after a brief illness, on Saturday 7th May, 2090, at the age of 85 years. Riz will be lovingly remembered by his wife of 60 years, Maya, and his daughter, Darcy.

  Riz was a passionate advocate for social change and spent years campaigning for Babygrow equality. In his spare time, he enjoyed drawing, baking and keeping chickens.

  Those who so desire may make memorial donations in memory of Riz to the Gender Identity Research and Education Society.

  pcdarcymw

  I’m very sorry to announce that my mother Maya Waverley passed away in her sleep last night at the age of 93. She was a beloved mother, wife and social activist, who made multiple changes to the political landscape of this country. Her funeral is being held tomorrow at 12 p.m. Please contact me for details if you would like to attend. – Darcy

  Posted on 30 Dec 2098

  CHAPTER 34

  I jerk awake from a deep sleep with an idea. I stare at the ceiling, turning it over and over, evaluating it to make sure it holds up.

  The answer for how to preserve a message for the future wasn’t in buildings or underground. It was in technology – in a satellite. It was something different and unexpected, something that would never even occur to you unless you let yourself think outside the bo
x. That’s how we’re going to find a way to end the infertility. Not by plodding along doing the same research and experiments that have failed thousands of times already. But by trying something new. Something technological.

  I’m not clever. I’m not ambitious. But I am patient. I can spend hours staring at sand, searching for the spark of gold. I can polish my tools until they shine. I have determination. And there’s the pearl of an idea in my head that I know will come clean with just a little bit of polish.

  I let the idea sit in my brain and pull up Maya’s posts, reading the last of her entries. When Riz’s obituary, and then hers, are shared by Darcy, I can’t stop tears slipping from my eyes. She felt like a real friend. I’m going to miss her.

  I have so many questions I wish I could have asked her: what was it like being in a relationship with a trans guy? Did people assume she was straight, like they will with me because I’m with Shen? How was she brave enough to fall in love when she thought the world was ending? But she’s long gone. She’s been dead for hundreds of years. I’ll never get that chance.

  Her last post is a message to her daughter. I can barely control my tears enough to read it.

  MyWaves05

  I don’t really post here any more, but I thought I’d make an exception as it’s my daughter’s fiftieth birthday today! Darcy, I have never been so happy as I was the day you were born. I never thought I’d be able to have a daughter – but I knew from the first moment I held you in my arms that I would die for you. I still would.

  One day, if the scientists find a way, I hope that you will be able to have children of your own. You might then be able to understand the depth of the love I have for you. Happy birthday, darling.

  Posted on 19 Sep 2083

  The idea I’ve been polishing in my mind grows clearer, glistening like a jewel. Babygrows are children. They aren’t some temporary solution, designed to keep people happy while fertility is fixed.