The Last Man on Earth Club

by Paul R. Hardy

  The widest view of the planet seemed almost normal. But it took only a short zoom to see too much cloud cover, the lines of continents shrouded and barely visible. I stripped the clouds away, but the shroud remained. It wasn’t a normal cloud. It was ash, spreading from the vast volcanic inferno of Yellowstone. A zoom into what was once a national park revealed only a dull glow of fiery red beneath the ash-storm. It had been erupting for forty years, and might go on for centuries more.

  I spun the globe away, to where the ash clouds thinned out and shorelines broke through the haze. Across the Atlantic, to Europe, to Britain, to my own long-dead nation. I pushed in through the clouds to find my home town, not so vast as the Zumazscartan capital, and long since perished. Snow seemed to cover the towers and roads and houses, or perhaps it was ash falling from distant Yellowstone.

  There were no corpses. It had all happened too long ago for that, and even if the dead had still lain in the streets, the ash or snow or whatever-it-was would have concealed them. I couldn’t find any of the places I had known; not the house we lived in, not the hospital we went to in the last days, nor even the airport from where I had been evacuated. So many of the buildings were in ruins, so many skyscrapers fallen and smashed into rubble, so much of the city covered in a grey-white blanket, that I could connect none of it with my childhood memories.

  And I could not see my parents’ graves. Not that they had single burial places. They went into a mass grave with all the others who died in the region, and even that was hard to find until I invoked a layer of geographic information that tagged every significant site. When I did, all I found was yet another featureless plain of ash or snow or something, with no sign that tens of thousands of human beings had their last resting place there.

  I pulled out, back away from the city, sliding the image up to hundreds of kilometres in orbit, and saw something I’d never spotted before. Something that had to be new.

  Far to the north of Scotland, ice was creeping ever further south from the Arctic. Iceland stood in its path, and broke the line of advance, but the wall of ice was pushing up the beaches and turning into a glacier. I checked the timestamp: this was supposed to be summer. I pulled the timeslider back six months and watched as the glacier rushed across the island, burying the coastal plain that used to be Reykjavik. I dragged the image back to Britain and saw the edge of the ice cap touching Cape Wrath. Estimates accompanying the images gave Britain no more than twenty years before it, too, would be covered by glaciers, and the towns and cities I remembered, everything I had been taught about in the heritage classes I had to attend while growing up on Hub, would be scraped away from the surface of the world. Never to be seen again.

  It was too much. I wiped the image from my wall and lay back down.

  9. Pew

  Pew interrupted my reverie, half an hour before his session was due. I’d planned a slow, careful start to his PTSD therapy, taking him gently through the abuse he’d suffered, slowly desensitising him to the memories until they no longer caused distress. But he thumped on the door, in no mood for therapy. I brought the lights up and let him in.

  “Is something the matter, Pew?” I asked.

  “Did you know?” he demanded.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “The news! About the Soo!”

  “I haven’t heard anything. Did something happen to them?”

  “No! It was what you did!”

  “What I did?”

  “I mean the IU — look.”

  He snatched a pad up, patched into the picture wall and rifled through a newsfeed to find a small notice, buried beneath all the stories about reconstruction after the attack and the announcement of the ICT.

  * * *

  Hub Chronicle

  HD y276.m9.w1.d1

  14:56

  Diplomatic Service Admits Partial Responsibility For Extinction

  In a report issued today, the Diplomatic Service of the Interversal Union has accepted partial blame for the extinction of the Pu species, while maintaining that the bulk of responsibility lies with the Soo species who evolved on the same world and enslaved the Pu.

  The Diplomatic Service identified a number of faults in their oversight of Soo efforts to preserve a nucleus of the Pu species, including a naive willingness to accept Soo assurances at face value.

  The report finds these failings to be institutional in nature and recommends that the officials who determined policy should be subject to disciplinary hearings. However, many are now retired from the Diplomatic Service and have returned to their home universes, where any action taken against them may contravene local laws.

  Kast Khraghner, Diplomatic Service Contact Director, said: “While we cannot turn back the clock and reverse this appalling disaster, it is nevertheless something we have learned from. Our future dealings in similar situations will be guided by the recommendations made in this report.”

  The Pu species is now represented by only one survivor, whose anonymity is protected by law.

  * * *

  “I see,” I said.

  “How can they do this?” he asked.

  “Have you read the full report?”

  “No! I can’t even find it!”

  “Hm…” I turned to the screen and started a search, but swiftly encountered an apologetic icon asking me to try again later. “Well, it’s probably out there somewhere but you might have to wait a bit. You know what things have been like with the dataflow.”

  “But—”

  “Pew. I wouldn’t rush to judgement until you’ve read the actual report. News reports aren’t always the best guide to what really happened.”

  “But they’re not going to do anything!”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “They’re not even prosecuting anyone!”

  “They said it’s difficult, but—”

  “What about the Soo? Are they going to do anything about them?”

  “I don’t know. You have to wait for the report.”

  “It doesn’t even exist. Does it?”

  This was more like an accusation, and a very sudden bitterness directed against me.

  “Why do you say that, Pew?”

  “Nobody’s even talking about it! Look at the comments!” I did — and the list was very poorly populated for something this important. Just a couple of the usual complainers. “It’s because they released it on the same day as the ICT announcement, isn’t it?”

  I checked the date — he was right. “Well, that would draw attention elsewhere,” I agreed.

  “See? That’s what they want! They put the story out on the one day nobody’s going to notice, and hid the report so no one can find out who was responsible!”

  Sad to say, some of his accusations were all too possible. Hiding embarrassing news by releasing it at the same time as a bigger story is a tactic as old as media itself. But Pew was constructing a conspiracy theory, which would do him far more harm in the long run.

  “Okay. I can see how you could draw that conclusion, Pew, but look at what’s going on here. The news media have been preoccupied with the attack ever since it happened. Is there any day in the last few weeks they could have released this and had anyone pay attention? So the Diplomatic Service has two choices. They can release the report and see it swamped with other news, or delay it and have people think they’re trying to hide something. And of course it’s difficult to find the report: it’s been difficult to find anything since the attack. You know that. How many hours did it take you to find the video you showed me last time?”

  He stayed silent, but still angry.

  “Now, I’ll put in an order to have the report sent to us directly. It’ll probably take a couple of hours and I’ll pass it to you as soon as it arrives. Is that good enough?”

  “No.”

  I was surprised. This wasn’t a petulant thing any more. This was getting cold, and dangerous.

  “Then what would you like us to do?” I said carefully
, keeping any trace of sarcasm out of my voice.

  “Put them on trial.”

  “Put who on trial?”

  “All the people who are getting away with it.”

  “Again, Pew, we don’t know if that’s the case—”

  “And the Soo as well. I’ve got a right to make a representation to the ICT.”

  “Okay. But…” How could I put this so his expectations would not be raised too high? “The thing is, I don’t want you to be… disappointed later on if it doesn’t go the way you want.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’ve seen our current report on the Soo. Did you know they’re listed as an endangered species themselves?”

  “Good.”

  “Hardly on the same level as you, of course, but their climate’s on a downward track and they don’t know how to deal with it without our help.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t know if the IU is going to issue sanctions against a whole species if it might mean they go extinct—”

  He jumped to his feet. “It didn’t stop them letting my species go extinct!”

  “Pew! Sit down!”

  “They’re going to get away with it, aren’t they?”

  “Pew—”

  “They’re going to wipe us out of history and say we never fucking existed!”

  “Pew, will you please—”

  He threw the coffee table over, scattering my tissue box and coffee mug. “I will not sit down!”

  “Do I need to call security?”

  That put a hold on him, as furious as he was.

  “Sit down. Please.”

  He sat down, arms folded, looking pointedly away from me.

  “I understand you’re angry but I won’t permit violence. Do I need to treat you the same way I had to treat Katie?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Pew?”

  Still no answer.

  “Okay. If you’re not willing to engage with therapy we’ll have to come back another day. I know you want something done but you need to co-operate with me if I’m going to help you.”

  He still refused even eye contact.

  “Or would you like to spend the rest of the session writing your representation?”

  “Is it going to make any difference?” he muttered, still looking away from me.

  “You won’t know unless you try.”

  Grudgingly, he agreed to work on the representation. I shelved my therapy plan for the moment and helped him.

  10. Liss

  Liss had already written her representation when she came in for her next session, and we spent the first few minutes going over it.

  “Not much to say, really,” she said. It wasn’t a lengthy document. As the sole legal authority on her planet, she ‘empowered the extraterritorial authority known as the ICT to investigate and render justice as it saw fit.’

  “And you’re sure you don’t want to be involved?”

  “Well, I want them to keep me in the loop…”

  “But this is basically you giving them your job.”

  “This is me passing my job on to people who can actually do it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I don’t know, let me think about it, oh, hang on, yeah, I’d have to launch an investigation across fuck knows how many universes, no clue who to look for, no way of bringing them to justice that doesn’t involve dropping a bomb on them which is probably going to get me prosecuted by your people so why the hell am I even supposed to consider it?”

  “I don’t mean it like that, Liss. I just meant you could be more involved if you wanted to.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  “If your therapy goes well, I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t go to work for the ICT.”

  She found that bitterly amusing. “What am I going to do, run their call centre? ‘Hello, you’re through to Liss, which genocide did you commit today?’ I mean, seriously?”

  “They’re going to be taking on a lot of staff. You were an office manager — you must have administration skills. They’ll need people like you.”

  “Why are you so keen on this?”

  “Because you’re not.”

  “Isn’t that my business?”

  “Of course. But I think it’s an issue for therapy as well.”

  “You’re going to hit me with the low self-esteem crap, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t suppose I’m the first therapist to mention it…”

  She sighed. “Only about the fifteenth.”

  “I’m afraid I still don’t have your medical records — do you really mean fifteen?”

  “Let me think.” She scratched her head and counted. “More. I don’t remember all the ones from when I was a little girl.”

  “Well, I think this is an issue we have to address. While I’m waiting for your records, I’d be grateful if you could talk about it.”

  She sighed again. “I’ve been over this so many goddamn times…”

  “Well, the thing is, you don’t have that many therapeutic issues. You don’t have any PTSD symptoms. You’re depressed, of course, you’re going through a grieving process, but you’re coping very well, considering what’s happened to you. I think you’re the person here who’s most likely to be able to leave and start a new life, once the legal hurdles are cleared.”

  “Great. That’s another power, I suppose. ‘Ability to cope with genocide’.”

  “But there are still issues we have to work through. I think low self-esteem might be something at the heart of it. So I’d be really grateful if you could tell me what you went through, before the world ended.”

  She flumped back into her chair. “Where the hell am I supposed to start?”

  “How about I make you a cup of tea and you think about it? If one of your therapists had an idea, you can tell me that, if you like.”

  I got up to make the tea, and Liss cast her mind back. “One of them said it was my parents’ fault.”

  “The adventurers?”

  “No, not them. The biological ones. Keff and Seelie were my foster parents. I was an orphan. I suppose that makes me an automatic fuckup, doesn’t it?” It took her a moment to remember I was an orphan as well. “Oh, uh, shit, sorry. I didn’t mean, I didn’t mean you, I just meant…”

  She trailed off. For a moment, I couldn’t answer. The memory of the crowd came back to me: pressed together, all of them pushing me up, passing me along, a sea of hands pulling me away from my doomed parents. Dragging me away with their blessing. Dying so I would be safe.

  I shouldn’t have been seeing those things. It shouldn’t have kept coming back. It faded, and I noticed Liss was frowning, worried she’d offended me. I smiled to reassure her. “It’s all right, Liss. It was a long time ago, but you’re right, it doesn’t make it any easier. I’d like to hear the theory your other therapist had.”

  “Okay…” She went on, a little more carefully. “There was something about the daycare place my parents took me to. They had us hooked up to these weirdo learning machines to try and make us into superbrains or something. I guess it was some mad paediatrician. I don’t know if my parents knew what was going on. The therapist thought they did. I don’t know… I don’t know anything about them. I hardly remember them at all.” She drifted away for a moment, then came back to the present. “And then they died.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “Hah! Same as always. Nothing natural. It was the flood basalt thing in Calafaria. Some superbrain thought it’d be a great idea to study volcanoes by making some. So he got some tectonic forceps or whatever he was calling that crap and the whole faultline went and there were huge floods of lava coming out, earthquakes like crazy… I was in daycare, the building collapsed, some adventurers came by and dug me out. Supposedly I was the only one who made it. My parents never turned up.”

  I brought her a mug of tea. “That’s a lot for a child to have to deal with.”

  “Huh. Well. You know, I gue
ss I never thought about it like that.”

  “I’m sorry, Liss. I’m sure you’re a little tired of talking about it.”

  “Everyone was tired. Everyone had something horrible happen to them. I wasn’t any different.”

  “That doesn’t mean your health isn’t important.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t want you to be unemployed, I guess.”

  “I don’t think there’s any risk of that in this place.”

  That got a very small chuckle out of her. “Thing is, it wasn’t being an orphan that was the problem. I don’t know, I’ve always been kinda… resilient about the big stuff. Huh. Guess you noticed that…” I nodded. “It was more the other kids when I got to the refugee camp.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Other side of the continent. Lots of countries were taking in refugees from Calafaria, I ended up in Algonquia. Some of the kids were messed up bad but a lot of them were just mean.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, I kinda had trouble with lessons. They got us into schools and I guess something about those machines they used on me made it difficult for me to keep up. So they all thought I was kind of a retard. I wasn’t, I mean I’m not a superbrain but I’m, you know, college level and all. So I guess I was bullied. There was one therapist who thought that was what it was.”

  “It’s possible. How did you respond?”

  “Huh. Well, it’s not a good idea to bully a kid with Early Onset Superpower Syndrome, you know?”

  “You hit back?”

  “I sure did. Soon as I figured out I was stronger than all the other kids, and I mean way stronger. I was lucky, some kids died because they got powers too soon, but I didn’t have that kind of a problem. It was all the other kids around me that had the problem. I got into a lot of trouble after I started breaking their arms when they called me names.”

  “That’s, um…”

  “Yeah, I know. Not nice. I got sent to doctors and shrinks and all the rest and they started figuring it out and told me I had to be real careful. But as soon as I went back to school, all the name calling started again and I hit some kid and it just went back and forth and back and forth and…”