by Patti Larsen
You might think you want to know, but trust me. Even I don’t any longer.
That day, I ran a small, heavy electric shovel, extracting rock from the layers of more rock that had become my life since I was brought there. Why they used us, I still don’t know. And, why the elderly? I was the youngest person I knew, though in the last few days I’d caught sight of a few more youthful faces, as though the AI’s were finally done culling from the aged and were boldly mowing their way into the general population.
And no, though you’re wondering, I’m sure—I never found my parents there, or Jim’s. I can only assume they were in another mine and that my mother- and father-in-law had suffered the same fate as Mom and Dad. For all I knew, my entire family had been turned over by now, scattered in similar positions as myself. Our numbers grew, we of the underground. Toiling away with simple machines that tracked our movements and our body’s ability to work, force fed if we refused to eat, taken away if we argued. I never argued. Not after witnessing the fate of the old man and his wife, easily in their eighties.
Fine, one story, and then we move on. But only because it was what broke me. Or, I thought myself broken. The old man, I don’t recall his name, though he was kind to me when I first arrived, he stopped one late afternoon—the sky hole overhead said afternoon to my light-deprived brain—and refused to work any further.
“My wife needs rest!” We all stopped and stared. But, like that day in my living room, on Danny’s birthday, not one of us stepped up to help. We stared, dull and afraid, as the AI mechs—no human-like disguises here, just giant, hulking masses of threatening steel—left their posts and came to confront him.
How tiny he seemed, but so brave. My heart woke that day, warmed and filled with hope. With something I hadn’t felt in a long time—pride.
“Resume working,” the AI boomed at the old man a quarter its size.
“My wife,” he said again, in a firm but shaking voice as the woman next to him sagged, “needs rest.”
A long silence followed, so long I saw spots on the edges of my vision. I had to force myself to breathe, inhale and exhale. All the air exited my lungs when the quiet ended in a flash of white light.
Where the old man and his wife had stood, defiant to the machines, a puff of smoke remained. A smear of ash on the floor. The scent of charred meat reached me, only for a moment, the remains of who they had been gone in that simple flash of white.
“Resume working.” The AI’s torso spun slowly, silver body humming as it returned to its post and went silent.
No one spoke or argued or protested. We all turned with the same practiced stillness and began digging. While tears choked me, dripping on the handle of my electric shovel for the loss of my soul.
That was the last time I thought about home, about any kind of hope or kindness or even offered it to anyone else. Retreat inside seemed the most logical choice, the easiest life. Escape into the stories in my head, ones I couldn’t write down but could, at least, accept as some kind of comfort in my long, empty nights, faded. The ability to imagine died and I let it, along with anything that resembled the woman I’d been.
Judge me, go ahead. Put yourself in my shoes, in that place and time. Tell me you would have fought or found a way to bring the others together, to climb out of the mine and make things right. Tell me and I’ll laugh at you. Maybe pity you.
You have no idea.
I don’t know why I noticed him, why I even bothered to register his presence. Maybe it was his attitude—that curiosity he carries with him even now. A half smile on his lips, his pale gray eyes clear, expression soft and kind. He dressed like us, wore the same filthy, thread-bare uniform, and carried a shovel of his own. But his head was unbowed, his shoulders straight. And there was a calm about him that attracted me despite my resistance to emerging from the safety of my shell.
Did he notice me, too? He says he didn’t, and I accept that. I can live with the fact it was me, my actions, that led me next. Makes me feel a little better, actually. Like I wasn’t the useless lump I seem to recall being.
I followed him all that day, from work site to feeding station to work site to sleeping hole. Stayed close, eyes flickering to explore him. Aside from his physical carriage, there wasn’t—and isn’t—much about him that should have elicited my attention. Average height, maybe 5’10”, average build. A plain, if kind, face, with a wide jaw and dark brown hair. Gentle eyes. No matter the reason, he drew me like a desperate woman dying of thirst who’s found a source of water.
When he rose from his pallet that night, I went after him, shocked at myself for having the courage to do so. We weren’t permitted to move about on our own, without our AI watchers. For some reason, the ones in our sleeping hole remained dormant as he passed, me creeping along behind him. I found out why later, but at the time, fear almost drove me back.
Deeper and deeper into the mine he went, alone on quiet feet. Not one mech stopped him, ignoring me in the process. I was close behind him by then, almost on his heels. And, when he vanished from my sight, as though there one second in the stone corridor ahead and gone the next, I didn’t have time to stop, to meep concern, to do anything but stumble after him.
He reappeared, turning to smile at me. Holding out his hand.
“It’s only built for one,” he said, my gaze sliding past him to the shining silver pod-like thing resting on the ground. “But, if you wish to, you’re welcome to come.”
I can’t tell you how afraid I was, more of his kindness and that smile, I hate to admit, than the unknown on the other side of his offer. Go where? Footsteps echoed behind me, driving me forward, turning me around to stare with both hands covering my mouth, at the massive mech hovering in the corridor.
It didn’t fire. It didn’t move much at all, a beam passing through a shimmering barrier I realized must have kept us invisible.
“I suggest,” the man said, soft but strained, “you hurry.”
The mech took a step closer, the beam almost at my toes. I could have stayed, been caught and fried, died and gone forever. I had thought myself lost far enough that would be my fate. But, whether his presence made the difference or a part of me survived after all, I spun and ran to him, slid on top of him inside the tiny pod, inhaling sharply as the glass dome descended.
A lighted panel, his body beneath me, my forehead pressed to his shoulder. I spun my head, looked out through the glass as it began to shimmer, and saw the mech cross the barrier.
And then, darkness. No, not full darkness, not like I’d gone deeper down a hole. But stars. Millions and millions of them, sparkling around us as the shimmer on the glass died and the panel lost its light.
“I’ve powered everything down,” he said in my ear, so calm and soothing. “They are expecting me, but the distance is great. And this pod has oxygen only for one.”
I looked up and had to squint to focus on the soft gray of his eyes. “Am I going to die?” Better that way, out there, wherever that was—I couldn’t contemplate space or anything he would tell me later, not at the time—than under the flaring white light of the AI.
“I should hope not.” He smiled and touched my cheek, the skin tingling and real darkness closing in as his voice echoed in my head. “Sleep for now.”
***
Waking up was a shock. I think part of me truly expected I was dead, that I’d gone on to whatever lay on the other side. Hard to even think of heaven or rebirth when I came from hell. For all I knew, staring up at the white ceiling through eyes that didn’t ache from squinting into the darkness, this was some kind of afterlife.
Except he sat next to me, holding my hand. It was a simple gesture, a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time and I didn’t want him to let me go.
“You are Sarah,” he said with a smile. “My name is Niall. Welcome.”
“How do you know who I am?” A dumb first question, I admit it, so sue me. But, he just smiled wider, all that kindness making me a little giddy. He helped me sit up, the
soft, silken cloth of the robe I wore so gentle on my skin, like a breath of air. Giant windows let in sunlight, overlooking green and a sparkling blue lake in the distance. Something silver flew gently by, looking like the pod I’d ridden in.
“You have questions,” he said, nodding to the glass. The outside view changed to black sky and stars. The shift made my stomach flip over. “Come. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
I followed him on bare feet, my toes warm despite the smooth floor, feeling like heated plastic under my skin. The room where I’d woken opened to a wide corridor, as white as the rest of the place, with silver trim running in elegant decoration down the hall in a strip of burnished metal.
“It’s not often we bring someone out,” he said, kindly, so kindly, offering his arm. I took it, if only to feel again. “But, when the opportunity presents, when one like you makes the effort, we are more than happy to assist.”
“I don’t understand.” My chest ached with questions.
“I know,” he said, pausing by the wall. I turned with him as he ran one hand over the metal strip and the opaque whiteness spun back to black sky studded with stars. Only, this time a vast, blue marble covered in clouds hovered below. I staggered, almost fell, Niall’s gentle grip holding me in place until I grasped at him for support.
“That’s…”
“Earth,” he said. “Home.”
I shook my head. “We’re in a ship?” The AI’s didn’t have ships, did they? It was hard to recall.
Niall nodded. “You are,” he said. “But not a ship you would have ever known in your lifetime, Sarah. We are from the future.”
I accepted what he said instantly. After everything I’d been through, it seemed utterly logical, though the old me would have called for the mental ward to take him away. “You saved me.” I choked up, I admit it. I would have sobbed if not for the soft hand he laid on my back, the slow circles he offered to soothe me.
“No, Sarah,” he said, that smile something to cling to. “You saved you. I simply offered the way out.”
He guided me from the window and to another wall. A door appeared at his touch. I followed him inside, found food laid out and, to my shock, a mirrored surface throwing us back at ourselves.
I approached it slowly, remember how shocked I was to see myself. I’d fought with my weight my whole life, that extra forty pounds I carried after the kids were born. Gone, all gone, my bones sticking sharply out of my face, neck sunken and hollow. The AI’s shaved my brown hair when I arrived at the mine, and a scruff of half-formed curls rose in a cloud, all that was left of my one vanity.
“Come,” Niall said. “Eat. And we shall talk.”
I don’t remember everything he told me, aside from being grateful to know humans survived after all. But I do recall how delicious the food was, how clear the water. I’d been living on an oatmeal-like sludge for two months and water that tasted like metal. This feast of fruit and bread and what tasted like a sharp cheese with spices in it I stuffed into my face until my stomach groaned. Not ashamed to admit I had lingering longing for food the rest of the day, and into the night, and could have easily continued if they’d just given me a bigger stomach.
How odd it is, the human mind. Survival had been in the forefront of my existence for months now. Even my family—those I lost, my own humanity I’d thought killed off, withered and died—seemed of no matter when simple survival challenged every breath. Now I had safety around me and a chance to recover, I wanted to live.
At least, instinct drove me to it. What came next… well.
Belly full, body waking fully, I asked what I hadn’t dreamed would ever be a possibility.
“Can I go home?”
Sad but nodding, Niall led me out.
The pod again, only this one built for two. I settled into the couch-like seat beside him, while a woman in a white robe like mine waved to us. It was her voice I heard as she pressed a button on a console before her.
“Shielding in place. You have three hours, Niall. Travel safe.”
“Thank you.” He held my hand and smiled, though there was hurt in his eyes. “Sarah… are you sure you’re ready for this?”
He knew, of course. What was waiting. But that’s Niall. Letting me do what I needed to do no matter what the risk or heartache. At the time, I had no clue, just nodded. Eager and excited. If I could get to Jim and even the kids, maybe I could get them out, save them. There was little else in my mind as the pod exited the back of the ship, winging silently outward. The shimmer returned to the glass, the invisibility shielding in place as we plunged down toward the surface.
I think I screamed, though Niall is nice enough now to call it a tiny squeal. I know better. Exciting, though, travelling by pod.
We passed through some kind of field, the tiny ship going dark before shuddering and reappearing, this time right over my street. I knew it immediately, could see my house as we banked and coasted to the ground a block away. Niall barely had the cover open and I was out, running, bare feet pattering on the pavement.
I didn’t want to consider the chill quiet, the utter silence, the lack of movement. Lightless in the early evening, not a candle or a bulb or a street pole glowing. My hurt and heaving mind simply shut that down, protected itself, while I pounded up to my front door and flung it open.
There should have been an odor outside. Instead, there was only the faint sickly sweet one I caught a hint of. Fresh air from my entrance chased it off. Shouldn’t there have been some kind of nasal indicator of their passing? Instead, there was only a sterile, empty and almost metallic feel to the air.
They had taken my advice, it seemed. Tonya was there, with her husband and kids, Jim in his favorite chair. Even Danny and April, still in their pristine white uniforms. They all stared, eyes open, milked over. The tiny, fluffy form of April’s cat, Pepper, lay curled in her lap.
Silent. Dead. Gone.
I stood there a long time in the doorway to my living room, examining their faces one at a time. It couldn’t have been long ago. Some kind of poison, maybe? Should I be worried? At the time, I hated myself for that betrayal. I should have wanted to die with them, not be afraid the thing that killed them might take me, too.
When she mewed softly, I jerked, my whole body pivoting toward April. But not my daughter, not my precious girl with her softly curling hair and pink cheeks now gray in death. But the bundle of tortoise shell cuddled in her lap.
Alive. Pepper was alive. I don’t remember moving, but I was suddenly running down the street again with her in my arms, toward Niall who waited for me with a sad smile on his face.
“Help her!” I shoved the cat toward him, her tiny ribs barely rising and falling. “She’s alive, we have to save her.” Please, save her. So I didn’t have to feel like this.
Like I’d failed everyone I ever loved.
I cuddled Pepper on my chest, not caring I never really liked her from the moment April brought her home, hating the clinging hair she left behind, having to clean her litter box because the AI house refused to do it. But none of that mattered as I stroked her fur and whispered to her she was going to be all right.
I held her tightly as we traveled back to the ship, her cold, dead body now only warm where she lay in contact with me. I sobbed when Niall took her from me, clutching at her, knowing she was gone.
They were all gone.
They had to carry me to my room where I lay curled on my side, staring at the white wall, shaking and unable to stop. When the quivering finally ended, I sobbed, until my chest felt like it would collapse, throat on fire, eyes burning pits in my face, nose running endlessly onto the edge of my pillow.
Pathetic, really. Though, I admit the inside of my nose is tingling even now from the memory.
He came to see me at last. Time passed, I know that. I think I may have slept, only to wake and cry all over again. When Niall appeared, I couldn’t even see him through my crusted eyes, lids sticking with dried tears.
&nb
sp; But I felt her. The softness of her fur, heard her purr as she rubbed her little face against my cheek. The cold, wet nose nudging me to sit up, to grasp her and pull Pepper’s warm, living body to my chest.
Desperate hope. Have you ever felt it? It’s a terrible, hurtful thing, despite how it sounds. I stared into Niall’s eyes, the cat in my grasp, and for a moment I was sure. He could bring them back, save them. Give my family back to me.
Until I saw him shake his head and sigh.
“But.” I stroked the soft fur under my hand, chest vibrating from the force of her purr.
“Sarah,” Niall said. “There is one more thing you need to know.”
Never in a million years did I expect what he had to say next. Not from the soft, kindness of his eyes, the way his warm hands held one of mine, how he leaned close, lips parted, brow furrowed.
“I’m not human,” he said.
I understood then, or thought I did. Sure, there weren’t any servo hums coming from him or that almost real/too real motion of his face. They’d had long enough to perfect themselves, the machines. The AI. The Evolution.
And he was one of them. This ship was theirs, from the future. My relief the human race survived was a lie. Down to the purring cat I held in my arms.
He took her from me as I held her out, carefully. Moving slowly and with deliberation. She tried to cling to me but I couldn’t touch her, not any more. I took great lengths with shaking hands to wipe the fur from me. Nonexistent shedding. Of course she wasn’t shedding.
She was one of them now.
“Sarah.” Niall held the lie he tried to pass off as Pepper, the abomination I’d taken some comfort from, while I shook and stared at my feet. “I know you’re upset.”
Upset. He used that word like it would make me feel better. All I remember is my world closing in around me, my entire existence the tips of my bare toes on the smooth, plastic floor. In the belly of the hated enemy.
He couldn’t have hurt me worse if he’d tried.
Niall moved, and I matched him, backing away until he stopped. His voice, edged with grief, reached me though I longed to cover my ears with my hands and block him out.