I checked my notes. “I don’t have any record of… was this a man or woman?”
“Woman. Girl. She was fifteen. She was like me — they found her in the Arctic, only she survived longer on her own.” He smiled, a little proud. “Her whole tribe died of the sickness and she was immune like me, but she stayed free. She figured out they were using body heat to find us and made a cloak of beluga skin she could hide in. But they still found her. She didn’t know about satellites.”
“Her name’s different to all the others…”
“It was a Pu name. Her real name. They tried to call her Leu’la but she never answered to it.”
“What was your Pu name? Do you remember?”
He looked sad. “Atkariaq.”
“Would you rather we called you by that name?”
“No.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m not him anymore.”
I nodded. “What happened to Qaliul?”
“They took her away for the breeding programme. I heard she killed herself.”
“I’m sorry.”
I reached out a hand to comfort him, but he flinched and tensed up — his fear of physical contact coming out. I withdrew and he relaxed.
“Pew, you’re safe here. No one’s going to take you away. We’re only here for your therapy. That’s all we need to work on.”
He looked suspicious, but it was crumbling. “You’re like Shan’oui.”
A name I’d been hoping to get onto. “Gan Shan’oui? Your guardian?”
“Yeah. Guardian.” Was that an edge of sarcasm?
“Can you tell me about her?”
For a moment, he could not. And then a tear started in his eye and he wiped it away, ashamed to be crying.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
But he wanted to. “She looked after us. She was in charge of all the Pu at the zoo. It wasn’t her fault. She did everything she could, she tried to protect us, she tried to help, she couldn’t stop them when they came, and they put me in the programme, she, she—”
“Pew, slow down. It’s okay. We’ve got time.” He nodded. “Let’s start with something small. Just tell me what you remember from when you first got to the zoo.” He nodded. “Was she there from the start?”
“Yes.”
“What happened when you first met her?”
“I bit her.” He smiled a little. “Right on the hand. She was trying to pat me on the head and I bit her. Then I ran out and tried to escape. Once they brought me back, they sat me in her office and I don’t know what she said, I didn’t understand the language, but… I don’t know. She was nice. Most Soo weren’t.”
“She won your trust.”
“Yeah. She was good at that. She was… she was like people here. On Hub.” I smiled at the compliment. If it was a compliment.
“What else did she do?”
“She taught me, when I was older. I mean proper teaching, the same curriculum the Soo got. She was keen on education, especially for the ones who came from the Arctic. We weren’t like the others.”
“Is there anything you remember in particular?”
He thought about it. “She gave me a telescope. She showed me the stars, and the planets. Venus and Mars. Jupiter and Saturn. Mercury. She said someday the Pu would be free and maybe it would be out there when we all learned to fly in space…” He trailed off again. His eyes turned to sadness. “She was lying.”
“Why do you think that was?”
“She was just being kind. There’s nothing out there for anyone. There’s no freedom in the stars. You can’t even get there. You can’t go past lightspeed…”
“Did she tell you about us? About other universes?”
“Not then. I was only little. I think she just wanted me to have some hope.” He shook his head.
“How do you feel about that now?”
“It wasn’t her fault. She tried to protect us. It wasn’t her fault we all died.”
“There’s one other person I’d like to ask about.” He looked back, waiting for the question. “Do you remember Ley’ang?” The last female Pu. Brought to him in the last gasp of the breeding programme. One last attempt to show the IU that it could have worked, if they’d been luckier. “Pew? Do you remember?”
His answer was strangulated. “Yes.”
“Can you talk about her?”
“No.”
“Is there anything you can tell me?”
He stayed silent. He wasn’t going to go any further today.
“Okay, Pew, I’m sorry. Let’s leave it there for now.”
6. Olivia
PSYCHOMEDICAL HISTORY — SUMMARY
DR. OLIVIA MORDLACK
When first discovered at Tringarrick, the remote scientific station where she had survived for twelve years since the beginning of the final revenant outbreak, Olivia suffered from malnutrition and bore a number of scars that indicated a very difficult life, including the loss of her left middle finger from a bite wound. She also carried the infection unique to her world which causes a process of revivification (or ‘revenation’) after death from other causes. Along with this, she had a form of liver cirrhosis caused not by alcoholism but by a food additive widely used in a failed attempt to eliminate the revenation bacterium. Most of her ailments were eventually cured by good nutrition and rest, while lyoxacin delivered via intracellular nanoparticle distribution was effective against the revenation bacterium. The cirrhosis could not be reversed, nor could a suitable liver donor be found. She continues to take regular medication to control the symptoms.
Psychologically, Olivia was extremely traumatised. After contact by the IU Exploration team, which brought news of her own status as the last survivor of her world, she shot two revenants kept in cages at the research station (presumed to be former colleagues), and then attempted suicide. She was prevented and conveyed to Grainger station and quarantine.
For nearly a year after arrival on Hub, she was withdrawn, taking little interest in her surroundings, and her physical recovery was slow as a result. She attempted suicide three times. Therapy proved to be virtually impossible. She was prescribed wide-human-spectrum antidepressants, which had no effect.
With time, she began to emerge from the depression and engage with therapy, but proved to be irritable and uncooperative. She is disruptive in group sessions, and was excluded from three groups she was assigned to. She shows little interest in resuming any kind of normal life, claiming it is impossible for her to update her scientific skills on an advanced world.
She suffers from poor sleep, which she claims is due to her cirrhosis, although the symptoms are entirely alleviated by medication. She also displays hypervigilance, especially at night. A cautious diagnosis of PTSD has been made, which she vehemently opposes despite the evidence.
She has formally requested euthanasia, but has not been willing to participate in the therapeutic programme prescribed for euthanasia candidates.
* * *
If the word ‘challenging’ had a human definition, Olivia would probably be it. She came in ill-tempered and sat down the same way. She hadn’t changed her clothes, nor had she washed them, despite the ease of the facilities she had access to. She hadn’t even washed her hair, and I suspected the shower in her en suite bathroom had gone completely unused. I offered her tea.
“I don’t want your rotten tea,” she said.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
“You can get me out of here!”
“The only place I can send you is the Psychiatric Centre, Olivia. You know that.”
She stabbed a finger at me. “And you know that’s a load of crap. You can send me somewhere else and you damn well know where it is.”
“You’re referring to euthanasia.”
“Of course I’m referring to bloody euthanasia. And as it happens…” She looked at the view outside the window, across the endless forest. “What’s to stop me going off by myself and finding a nic
e cliff to jump off?”
“Well, first of all, there aren’t any cliffs here. But if you’re thinking of killing yourself some other way, we’d intervene and prevent it. We’d rather you didn’t hurt yourself.”
“Oh, because keeping me here isn’t hurting me at all, is it?”
“The idea is that we help you get better.”
“I’m not going to get better. I don’t want to get better.”
“Olivia…”
“That’s Doctor Mordlack to you. If a little shit like you can be a doctor, then you can damn well use my title.”
“If you like. Doctor Mordlack — if you really want euthanasia, we’re willing to give it to you…”
“No you bloody aren’t!”
“We are. We just need you to cooperate.”
“More bloody therapy.”
“A last attempt to get better. And an honest attempt. In your case, that means addressing your PTSD, which means you have to talk about what happened to you…”
“I don’t have PTSD. I’ve told you lot so many times I don’t know how often, but you never listen!”
“Then you won’t mind talking about your experiences.”
“I want my privacy! Can’t I have that? Last survivor of a dead world and I can’t even take anything to the grave because you lot want to satisfy your curiosity!”
“This isn’t about us—”
“Rubbish. You’re all wringing your hands and going ‘sorry we couldn’t save your species, please let us save you to make up for it’. Well I don’t want saving!”
“Olivia—”
“I told you. Doctor Mordlack!”
I took a stronger tone. “Olivia. The only person who can certify you ready for euthanasia is your current therapist. And that person is me. If you cooperate with me, you may just get what you want. If you don’t, then nothing will change. Are you willing to cooperate?”
“No I am not!”
“Would you prefer to go back to the Psychiatric Centre?”
“I’d rather go back to Tringarrick.”
“You have to understand, this is your last chance. If you can’t cooperate this time, we’re not going to try again. You’ll go back and we’ll reduce your therapy to a minimum. But we won’t let you kill yourself. Is that what you want?”
She stared back at me, furious but out of options.
I asked her: “Are you willing to at least stay here for a while and see what happens?”
She took an exasperated breath, the closest thing to assent I was likely to get. “It’s not going to get you anywhere.”
“Thank you.”
7. Iokan
PSYCHOMEDICAL HISTORY — SUMMARY
IOKAN ZALACTE
Iokan was discovered lying among a number of corpses, suffering from malnutrition, dehydration and his universe’s variant of cholera, possibly contracted from drinking tainted water. He had a number of small untended injuries, some of which were infected. He was only a few hours from death when found.
Initially, he was placed on emergency hydration and nutritional support. The cholera and other infections were then treated with wide human spectrum antibiotics, but these had dangerous side effects and were discontinued. It was soon observed that his own body was producing species-specific antibiotics which were far more effective. These were traced to surgically implanted glands in the space vacated by a previously removed appendix.
He awoke after three days of unconsciousness, and was first interviewed by therapists at Grainger station. He seemed to be aware of the existence of other universes and relatively unsurprised to find himself in our company. While his physical health showed remarkable progress, his psychological state was troubling. He claimed that godlike entities he termed ‘Antecessors’ had been responsible for the mass suicide of his species and their conveyance to a paradisiacal afterlife, and that he had been left alive to communicate their message to the IU.
It is difficult to determine whether he is entirely delusional, although the absurdity of his claims tends toward this conclusion. Scans were made of his brain function, and increased activity in parietal and temporal lobes was discovered, which is linked in most human species with spirituality and religious experience. It is possible to stimulate this artificially with psychosurgery, but it is difficult to tell whether this was done by the ‘Antecessors’, or whether Iokan has simply had a religious experience caused by malnutrition, dehydration and the stress of living through the extinction of his species.
* * *
Iokan was still ill, but rapidly getting better. His skin had regained colour and he’d put a little weight back on. He’d managed to get out of the hospital clothes, and into something he said was normal wear for an academic in his society. It looked more like the ecclesiastical robe you might see in a religious community on a less developed world, worn with little else apart from sandals. He still had to limp as he went to the window to look outside.
“Would you like a bigger window?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. Please,” he replied. I turned the wall back to full transparency. He breathed a sigh as he looked over the valley and wooded plain beyond, rainclouds low over lakes in the far distance.
“You like the view?” I asked.
He nodded. “I never thought other universes might be as beautiful as home…”
I took a seat. “How long have your people known there were other universes?”
“A while. But we only started opening portals recently.”
“That’s how we found you. We detected nanoscale portals and investigated.”
He looked back at me, still calm and contented. “That was the idea. You found us. And you came.”
“We were too late. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. We’re better off now.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“You seem very determined to think we’re not.”
“Every single person on your world committed suicide, and yet you say they’re better off. That worries me.”
“Who are you concerned about? Them or me?”
“You.”
He turned away from the wall. “We should get started, then.” He limped to a chair and sat down with a relieved sigh. “How can I help you today?”
“Well, first of all, you’re not here to help me. I’m here to help you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been through a terrible trauma. We’re here to help you recover from that.”
“Hm.” He furrowed his brow, a little obviously. He was gearing up for a debate, not therapy. “Do I seem traumatised to you?”
“Yes.”
“Really? How so?”
“Because trauma is a normal human response to the things you’ve experienced. But you don’t seem troubled at all, and that’s a sign of deeper problems.”
“I see. So you’re using a lack of trauma as evidence that trauma exists? That’s a strange kind of logic.”
“Not if trauma is normal for the situation.”
“I think you should look more closely at your assumptions.”
“One of my assumptions is that the extinction of a human species is a bad thing. I also assume, based on more than a decade of working with survivors from dead worlds, that people who survive a genocide suffer because of it.”
“You’re assuming that what happened on my world was similar to what happened on other worlds.”
“No, you’re right: your world is unusual. But you’re not very different from all the other humans who evolved on millions of other universes…”
“We didn’t evolve.”
“Really?”
“Really. We were created.”
“Is this part of your religion?”
“Yes. But it really happened. When the Antecessors abandoned their bodies, they left us behind to stay upon the Earth. We didn’t have a human form before that.”
“You have history going that far back?”
He smiled. “No.
We have mitochondrial DNA. When we compared samples from across the world, they all dated back to the same mitochondrial genome about three thousand years ago. So, at that point, everyone on my world had identical mitochondria. Which would be very strange if we’d evolved continuously over millions of years.”
He had a point; that was very strange indeed. If it was true. “So you believe your species was artificially created?”
“I know it was.”
“And now you say the people who created you have… reclaimed your species?”
“They set us free.”
“When we arrived on your world, we found no evidence of these ‘Antecessors’. Where do you think they went to?”
“If they don’t want to speak to you, then you probably won’t find them.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to speak to us?”
“Perhaps you’re not ready to hear what they have to say.”
“And what is that?”
The only word to describe his smile was ‘beatific’. “We don’t have to be bound to these bodies. We can be like them. You can, too. And once you make the change, everything else, all the conflict, all the fighting, all the atrocity… just goes away.”
He really believed it, and probably pitied me for not doing so. “You want what happened on your world to happen to everyone?”
“Only if you want it to.”
“Did your people want it to happen?”
“Once the Antecessors showed us the way.”
I was very glad these sessions were confidential. If Hub Security got hold of this, they’d put Iokan back in quarantine in a heartbeat. Proposing genocide as a solution to our problems is worrying enough, but when the person doing so has lived through it once already, Security wouldn’t think twice.
I decided it was time to spell out the real problem. “Can I show you something?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said. “What is it?”
I tapped my pad, the room darkened and the window wall dissolved into an image of a half-transparent human brain. “This is you,” I said.
“I can see the resemblance,” he said, still lighthearted.
The Last Man on Earth Club Page 8