To the Well-Organized Mind

Chapter Thirty-Four

[Nia]

The other group still hasn't returned from Asis, so we must assume they never will. We have lost so many amazing minds.

Stephen Pershing, who could always be counted on to challenge our assumptions.

Elias Jostad: the first one to point out the differences in our samples of the bacterium. He always had a keen eye for detail.

Joshua Ridge—a more well-read companion you will never find.

And lovely Diya Rhee, who was more than just a lab student thrust last-minute into our group. She is my intellectual partner, my daughter's mother, my sanity in an insane world.

We feel their absence acutely, and without them, we have divided into factions.

-from Gerald P. Anagnost's log

***

After he sat in front of the fire so long my own eyes were in danger of shutting whether I wanted them to or not, Ridge finally lay down in the cave with his back to the coals and slept. I slept on my somewhat-damp sleeping bag after adding logs to the fire. It almost could be like old times...except it's admittedly nothing like old times.

In the morning, the rain is a steady drizzle, a fine mist that can permeate everything. The entire cave feels damp despite sleeping next to the coals. I reach to throw more wood on, but only do one log instead of two. There's a finite dry supply in the cave. I can't imagine anything outdoors could possibly catch. So I investigate the cave, in case there's more I haven't discovered yet.

This cave is nothing like the one with the wall of books. It's deeper and darker, dirtier even. But there is one similarity: it has a natural ledge in the rear where items can be placed. That was where Ridge used to keep his most prized possessions. I automatically run my hand along it while searching for wood and anything else.

My fingers brush against something flimsy and light, which makes me draw them back instinctively. Then I reach out, seeing something off-white in the dim lighting. Possibly birch bark? We could burn that. So I seize it, but when my fingers pinch it, I can immediately tell it's not birch bark.

I carry my find back to the front of the cave where there's more light. It appears to be a piece of paper, folded into quarters. The outside is yellowed and has dirty fingerprints on it. But while rough, it unfolds easily enough when I open it.

The top section of the page is clearly torn away, but underneath it is writing. Familiar writing. Writing I have spent years wondering about.

The other half of Ridge's note.

Mother Nature has told us time and time again that if things get out of balance, a great calamity will occur to restore the balance. Humanity had destroyed the earth. Climate change was out of control, and species were falling into mass extinction. Despite all the warning signs and attempts to slow it down, humanity failed. They wanted to be comfortable instead. Rich instead.

Feralism was Mother Nature's way of restoring the balance. No, I'm not saying there is a sentient decision in nature that pushed a button and released the bacteria into the world. Just that civilization had reached a precipice where the bacteria was the tipping point. Our populations had skyrocketed and it spread insanely quickly. If we had been living in separate outposts with more nature between us, it wouldn't have spread through us and devoured us so quickly. If we hadn't brought nature to the brink of chaos, maybe the earthquake never would've happened and released the bacteria at all.

So I accept feralism. I accept that I must pay the price of my ancestors' sins. If by doing so I can bring some balance back to the earth, it is worth it. Maybe I won't be able to understand this or remember it when I am fully feral, but I document it here so that all may know why I willingly choose this, and why I abandoned the efforts at establishing a cure. My coworkers continue to work tirelessly to find a cure to the disease, but I say, let it consume us.