Emperor NPC

Memories of the Last Human: Part 3

We had gathered in Lore's chamber, in a circle of folding chairs set in the blue glow of Lore's aquarium. I was somewhere in the back, facing the glass. I glanced up from the faces of my co-workers and saw Lore float silently in the water, eyes hidden behind a visor, as they always were. My brother, Alex, sat closest to Lore. He sat in reverse, arms folded over the back of his chair, chin rested on his arms. He stared at me, at all of us.

Earth was nearly out of time. Orbital bombardment by the invaders had collapsed our biosphere and the stopgap measures to protect the remnants of humanity had begun to fail. Crews of pilots and their trans-atmospheric shuttles had long prepared to evacuate the last humans from Earth. However, the thirteen arkitects, chief authorities on the Ark's human re-build, hadn't gathered to discuss the evacuation. It was for what came after.

"I would like you all to reconsider," Alex said as he straightened his back. He gripped the top of his chair.

The arkitects around the circle, sitting in or standing near their chairs, wore white lab coats. Most of us were experts in a scientific field, so we picked clothing that fit the description of a 'scientist,' but the truth was were just role-playing. Proper society had long collapsed and those civilian leaders that remained were figureheads. The fate of the human race hinged on whatever decisions we made. We should have worn suits, because in those final years we'd become Earth's last politicians.

"We already voted," I said to him. "Are you going to argue with the result?"

Alex frowned at me. "The storm has exceeded our worst predictions," he said. "With Lore's assistance, we've determined that it will obliterate our final refuge in the Andes. We can't support all mankind aboard the Ark for long. Departure Day will have to come soon."

"No one disagrees with that," Ziegler said. She was the cunning-looking woman to my right, a German engineer around my age. Years ago, she had earned her place among the arkitects with a workable theory for Lore's stasis field, what she called the Ziegler Field. Therefore, her primary concerns related to the operation of the stasis pods.

"What you propose is indefinite incarceration," she continued. "Is an eternity in stasis sleep any different from the death of us all?"

A prune beside Alex appeared to stir from his seat. It was Harold Smith—a real professor from before the war—and the oldest among us. His position was earned by reverse engineering Lore's brain imaging functions and providing the basis for the inter-space simulation system. He licked his dry lips, glanced up at my brother, then folded his hands over his cane.

"What is life, but indefinite incarceration of the soul in the body," he said slowly.

A fire-eyed woman on the right side of the circle piped up. "Well of course you don't give a damn!" Lavoie shouted with an upturned hand, gestured at the decrepit heap across from her. "You're going to die after we reach the next world anyway!"

Arkitects around the circle started arguing, one side to the other. My brother restored order by clapping his hands. "I understand your objections," Alex said to me and the others of my faction. "The colonizers have spoken, the vote stands; however, I will remind you why we virtualists feel so strongly.

"Even if we traverse space and reach a habitable planet, it's uncertain whether the 10,000 that remain will be enough to make a new world anything like Earth. Many of us are sick; weakened by malnutrition, poisonous air, and the Wasting that the aliens brought. It is apparent to us that humanity's greatest chance for survival is not to escape, but to retreat into the virtual space we've made. Ark World is a perfect environment for humans, a space tailorable to every need. It could be indistinguishable from reality, except that there would be no true death or severe illness, wasting or otherwise."