sauce

A gasp of air broke the silence.

He was in a strange place that was already too familiar. He knew it, he recognized it, but he didn't remember it. He's been here before, no, he's been here for his entire life. He built this very place. But... when? A feeling a remembering, watching a mirror replay something, a plot that one has already been through unfolding in front of one's eyes.

Ah. Déjà vu, that's what they called it.

Déjà vu?

B2-B's familiar droning slowly grew in volume, until a slender-bodied android entered the man's room.

"Master, I've prepared another data wing for your commute," said a feminine, yet metallic voice. "Master?"

"Oh... Um... Y-yes, thank you, er, B2-B, that-that'll do just fine."

"Are you alright, master? I am sensing a certain... unrest."

He felt a swelling warmth in his stomach -- a sense of trust, a feeling of safety. "Oh." He looked down at his hands, pausing for a moment. B2-B whirred as she hovered closer.

"I just... I don't exactly remember. But I do remember. This is all too familiar, but I've never been here before."

"Master, you have lived here for 33.196 years, after you built this world."

"B2, what's my name?"

"You have hard-coded your name into my systems. Rayne Roskam."

Rayne sighed out of relief. "Enough of this calling me master. I want you to call me Rayne."

"As you wish, ma -- Rayne."

"What's your name, B2? Your designation is too much of a mouthful."

"Well -- Rayne -- you've never given me an affectionate name, so to speak. You have always referred to me as B2-B. Even this 'B2' feels strange."

Rayne crossed his arms, determined to name his robotic assistant. She gave the synthesized equivalent to a sigh. Rayne continued.

"Why does the name Coral come to mind?"

"Rayne, you have instructed me not to speak of that."

Rayne fell to his knees. He rubbed his temples, as if he were trying to remember something. Yet his mind remained blank. He smiled slightly as he recalled an old story, comparing himself to the man who woke up after a long sleep, unfamiliar with the world surrounding him. The very world he fell asleep in.

After a long pause, Rayne continued. "I guess I will call you Coral. Tell me, Coral, where are we?"

Coral took a moment to process Rayne's request. "I see. It's worse than I thought. It isn't amnesia because you already have an idea of what's going on. You're still as confident and headstrong as you were yesterday."

"Déjà vu," he said, simply.

He looked around the all-too-familiar room. His flat bed hovered off the floor, a simple platform to sleep on. Two bright yellow floating orbs of a strange, gaseous material provided enough light to fill the room with warm glow. Outside the window, he saw electronic highways that resembled circuits on a circuit board, colored beams of light and electricity shooting down the wirelike grooves. Beyond these circuits were tall skyscrapers, glowing light of different colors illuminating the buildings. An atmosphere of shifting, foggy color enveloped the city.

"Are... are we even on planet Earth?"

"We are on a world that you built years ago, occupying the space that Earth took up. You called it Tetritus-I."

"That's right, Earth was destroyed when viruses invaded the planet. The Earth was deteriorating, so we built a set of subsystems to keep it alive. But they were vulnerable..."

"Correct. You saw it coming, and everyone on Earth fled to the gigantic space station surrounding Mars."

"Then where is everyone else?"

Coral looked down. "You see, Rayne, they didn't make it. Viruses invaded the station, fragmenting the subsystems. You were in an area the viruses got to last, so you escaped. You had just finished rebuilding this Earth, so you had a place to go. Supposedly there are survivors out there. You always said there was a hope."

It didn't make sense. You, the last surviving human. You built your own world. You successfully played God. But why? What was the point?

"I'm alone." He stormed out of the room, angry. Two floating platforms, a desk and a chair, lingered in the next room.

Slamming his fists down on his desk, he shouted, "We are alone."

"Rayne." It was Coral.

"We are all alone, Coral. It's just me and you," he whimpered softly.

"It's not --" Coral was interrupted.

"Tell me, Coral. How old am I?"

"You were just over 53 years of age when you fled to this sanctuary."

"No."

"You yourself invented an implant that would keep up with the human lifecycle, rendering you practically ageless."

"No."

Silence.

"I am 86 years old, and I look as if I were 30. I will never die. I am the only being with a conscience remaining in this doomed universe. I'm alone."

Another long pause.

"Coral, what have I been doing for the past 33 years? Surely I haven't been sitting on my ass this whole time."

"You have been developing this world, Rayne."

"For what?!" He yelled.

Coral was taken aback by Rayne's sudden outburst.

For what? He stared listlessly out the window, leaning on the enormous glass pane.

"I've been at it for so long, I don't even know why I came here. Why didn't I just let the viruses take me back on the station? I'm so desensitized to it all. I'm only droning on like an automaton. That's what I built you for, I'm supposed to work dynamically. What have I done?"

For what?

----------------------

It's only a matter of centuries. Centuries. Those are nothing compared to the eternity Rayne would be alive. Suffering and alone, but alive. Perhaps the viruses would get to him, too. Eventually. That's why he was building this accursed planet. But what's the point, when fate doesn't exist? Why keep on going through life?

And when it's all achieved perfection? What then?

Rayne is still alone.

Rayne Roskam, a technological adept, has achieved perfection. What if he could just develop his artificial intelligence to think for itself? He could easily create an entire race of beings, he could create a whole new universe.

Only a maniac would be so desperate.

It's only a matter of centuries.