Zealous Overture Meandering By Instigated Evolution

They aren't zombies, are they?

Zealous Overture Meandering By Instigated Evolution

The young girl flitted across the stiff golden grass blades of her garden. Her shoed feet carried her farther from the encroaching thick fog which had engulfed her house already. Wind from her speed pulled her long, curly locks from her head. Over the waste high stone wall, she continued towards the village only a few yards away.

Barreling mist came over the short wall. A tide of suffocating chemicals not only collapsed the living creatures it overtook, but blinded them completely to their surroundings. The young girl's siblings had known their location for ten years. They both fell over them as they began panicking and running, hoping they would return to regular breathing. Their bodies were beside the bushes, bruised and flailing for oxygen.

Upon entering the rustic village, she ran into a sporting goods shop. She shut the glass door forcefully behind her as the fog drifted by the glass down the street. Her mind still clicking along in survival mode, she ran passed all the sports clothing, and into the back room passed the service counter. Oxygen tanks, masks, and goggles were placed on a stack of shelves next to the door. Having gone diving with her mother, she hooked up the masks and applied the goggles. She set her fingers deep in her ears.

Employees further towards the back could be heard knocking over items onto the concrete floor, gasping for air along with the clanking and cracking of store goods. Fog spilled over out into the back room, it soon blanketed over her eyesight.

Five thousands miles away from the village was the city of Los Angeles, California. It was flooded completely by the white, cloudy, gas. However, the population of the city, and the great state of California, had been alerted by the national news media to take precautions by purchasing oxygen tanks, masks and goggles, as the gas could not enter through the ears.

Many of citizens of the United States living near mountains believed they could avoid the mist at the peak of the mountains. Those were the ones who had been overtaken by the mist already having breathing complications, thus, the effects took a shorter duration.

Though, on a more positive note, the mist would roll over small crevices without leaking into them the least bit. Those who were in small-opened caves, or inside homes with only the crack at the bottom of the door exposed, gratefully survived the encounter with the milky white cloud of thick chemical. Those in alleyways, canyons, or caves were mistaken in their safety and soon fell to the wave of the fog spilling into their retreat.

At approximately six twenty-five that afternoon, general mountain time, the fog dissipated. It just evaporated into the air only having affected the human species. For animals, insects, bacteria were still continuing their normal basics of living, unperturbed by the fog or the fallen humans.

The young girl emerged from the sporting goods store dragging the oxygen tank behind her. Along the cobbled street and bricked sidewalks she observed bodies of adults and a few small children sprawled out with no billows of small air streaming out from their mouths or noses. She did not risk removing the plastic mask from about her nose and mouth.

'Not until I see another without.'

It was an objective view, some would deem it cold-hearted. It was logic. A mind-set that would be needed.

Slowly, the scraping of the metal tank on the stone and concrete receded along with the young girl through the narrow street. The constant dirge ended as she began her trudge across the uneventful hillside. She stopped, and watched a squirrel scamper across to a distant tree. Though she was knowledgeable that animals had a sixth sense for danger oncoming, could they have survived such a catastrophe without a higher intellect? It answered itself with the minute animal running before her.

First off, she removed the goggles from her eyes. Cool, brisk air breathed upon them, releasing them from their dry enclosed confines. Blindness did not occur. She did wait a few minutes to assure herself that the effect was not delayed. Removing the mask took more. And after it was removed she took quick, shallow breaths. She did not suffocate.

Her knees pressed into the damp brown grass in the field. Stuttering sobs emanated from her lungs. Tears flooded and poured from her eyes. She knelt there and wept for nearly half an hour.

An overcast sky remained for the entire day. In this country, cloudy days and nights were normal weather conditions. The warmest of temperatures throughout the year never reached above twenty-eight degrees celsius. Nights drifted towards freezing point, making for a nice evening near a heater or fireplace, and rink hot tea until the kettle was empty.

Rain was pattering the window glass late in the night, waking her from her uneventful sleep. The complete vacancy of the house echoed its blaring silence in her ears. Her bare feet dragged on the carpet through the house. Steps on the landing creaked every fourth step from the top.

'I'm alone. All of them drowned in the fog.' The melancholy thought only intensified the hunger pains. 'My family's lifeless remains are not so repugnant to cease the aches for food.'

She thought of their bodies bundled in their small spaces on the gardens grass. Mother was only a few feet from father; her two older sisters at the base of the hedge with scrapes and bruises upon their lifeless legs.

'Knife,' she thought as she retrieved a butter knife from the drawer. 'Jam,' from the fridge. 'Bread and peanut butter,' from the pantry. And as she scraped the condiments on the wheat bread, the thoughts of deep concentration continued. This exercise helped her not to ease the hunger but the morose feelings of being alone.

Unable to sleep she flipped on the television. Two hand-counts of channels were broadcasting about the event. They called it the Second Great Flood.

“It has been nearly twelve hours since the fog came hurdling across the land to envelope all of humanity. Luckily, many of us have survived. But, given the large amount of the population, it is not enough for those of us remaining to quickly remove the deceased from the open.”

The camera and reporter moved closer to one of the corpses lying on the hood of a vehicle.

“Here we will show you what the thick mist did to those who inhaled it. Around the mouth you can see pink stains at the corners; dried blood slithers out to the earlobe. Also, you can see that the complexion has grayed, instead of paled as do most deceased bodies.”

At a close-up of the face, with commentary from the reporter, the eyes fluttered then stopped. This caused the reporter to stutter in his speech.

The young girl switched to a paper-view channel and purchased a rental of the movie “Paul”. While the movie began, she let the piquancy of the peanut butter and jam sandwich paint her palate with desideratum of distraction.

“Take the memory card out of the camera, and then drop the camera. It's slowing you down. COME ON! HURRY UP!” Yelled the reporter to his camera-woman.

Her hands were shaking erratically causing her to surcease her attempt at retrieving the memory card quickly.

Soft, quick footsteps could not be heard approaching behind them from around the block corner of the street. The two of them ran from the silent footsteps anyway.

“Slow down!” She yelled to her reporter.

“Speed up! Come on. Hurry!” He slowed slightly, running backwards till she was ten feet behind him and gaining fast, then turning forward and running along full speed.

“Why didn't we go to the van? It would be much faster than our feet.” She stated.

“It was between us and it. Along with ten others who hadn't decided to replicate what it was doing.”

Their breaths were slightly out of synchronization. Through both of their minds the derivation of the present event was from fiction. However, it was a far different attribute in their eyes than what was placed in those stories. Basic instincts were not the only electrical firings occurring in the cranium of the risen human. There were actually more surges flowing than previously. And they were divulging a way to attain the moving sustenance ahead of it.

Kitra, the young girl, heard the nonchalant noise of the doorknob on the front door jiggle and the heavy wood open. Four pairs of footstep marched across the wood floor in the hallway. She looked over the back of the couch to see her family standing in the opening of the living-room. The four of them stood with their heads slightly tilted back, sniffing the air constantly.

Her instinct of ratiocination had partially and minutely ceased working upon seeing them. Once it returned, she silently retreated farther from her family, making for the kitchen. There was no door to close as she entered and it kept her sense of hearing sharper for more footsteps. Slow heal-to-toe steps crept closer to the kitchen, then stopped momentarily.

'What is this? Why don't they call out to me?' In her mind, the famous corpses of fiction sprouted into her imagination.

Kitra gingerly pattered her feet towards the back door on the other side of the kitchen.

Darkness of the pre-dawn morning swallowed her from the light of the house. Unknowing if there was another person like her nearby she jogged on for miles. At odd intervals between small villages, towns, and farms, she would stealthily creep around in search of attaining supplies for her, what seemed like, an inevitably long journey, while seeking out living humans, and continuously remembering that the living corpses were capable of discovering her by her aroma.

Two years post . . .

Three men in suits stood in a bare walled, white linoleum hallway wide enough to be considered a two lane road. Their steps in their wing-tipped shoes slapped and echoed through the many channels of the building. But when they desisted from their march, it was utterly silent. Their heartbeats could be heard, when they actually beat. That was only once every ten minutes.

“Mister Secretary. What of the other species? Our citizens are attacking, and devouring animals; dogs, cats, birds.” The question was posed by a younger man, whose gray complexion was no fairer than Mr. Secretary's.

“Issue a statement that all animals are no longer to be slaughtered for food. We must control our urges for blood and meat. Only focus it on those who are of our previous stage in evolution�"but press that in terms of a more savory nature.”

“Yes, Mister Secretary.”

“Our species has become enlightened simultaneously and instantly. At least to the point where every person will not have an IQ of less than one-fifty.” Images of other planets, and space travel; harvesting the energy of the stars, and supernovae vividly projected in his mind's eye. “But, we are now completely capable of achieving outstanding peace, leaps in science and exploration.” He turned and gazed upon his small entourage. “We are now incapable of destroying ourselves.

“We must also make sure to reach out to those who were not affected. With the many outbursts of the new species occurring, I know it would appear to the humans that we are . . . zombies. It will be a challenge to assure them. All of them are frightened, in attack mode, and unwilling to listen because of the former. So, we will also have every one of our species know, to apprehend the humans in a courteous manner. No restraints. And assure that our soldiers and officers are capable of controlling themselves. Those are the ones, everywhere, that we will need to capture, and do out best to help them.”

“Yes, sir.”

The slap of their shoes continued along the length of their journey in the simplistic labyrinth. Their hearts each compressed, in unison.

“Mister President, Vice President,” and the Secretary named off many more commanding and powerful individuals whose faces occupied places on the screen. “We have surveyed the populations, along with the other directors of defense in all the nations. Many people of our previous stage have been captured and crudely dealt with, sirs, madam.”

“You mean killed and eaten.” Replied the President.

“Yes, Mister President. And we are dealing with that rather obscene trait through lawful ways. The people are not only attacking these humans, but also other species. I have issued a statement to all law enforcement, military personnel and news stations.”

“My director tells me she has done the same.” Spoke the President of France.

“Very well,” spoke the Vice President.

“Ve need to address our current project.” Interrupted the German President.

“Yes. Thank you, Mister Secretary. You may be seated.

“We have devised a resolution to make this project more affordable, with better quality towards it as well.” The President continued. “Salaries will be readjusted to a lower standard, seeing as many of those in politics have contributors, as well as stocks and bonds in the Market. The military budget, for the US, will be cut by half, with that half going towards building this new fleet of space flight capable vehicles.

“Uh, President Cho, will you give the details of the new space vessels?”

A raven haired, Eastern Asian man began speaking to the company of making interplanetary travel and settlements. Beginning first with establishing a forwarding base on the moon, but also of building a large space station, capable of travel, creating its own artificial gravity and recycling air production.

“I believe if we can first develop artificial gravity, and a stabilized atmosphere it would allow for more able approach to settling on other planets.”

The meeting continued for only a couple of hours. Each nation establishing which endeavor they would take on solely, sharing all information at a bi-annual meeting.

Within the first few months after the change, people crime rates plummeted, the financial debts of the countries were forgiven and paid off, employment rates increased, and intelligence among the population increased greatly, as well as quickly. Yet, there were still violent outburst among the new species, but that was being handled. There was only a singular set-back to the evolved human species. They were unfit for temperatures above ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit.

“Great Eru! I can't stand this heat anymore,” a gray skinned man said to his just as gray friend near him.

They were at the beach. Swimming trunks were the only clothing they had. Standing directly in the Sun's rays and upon the heating hot sand, neither of them broke much a sweat. They were completely dry.

“Let's get in the water. That'll cool us down.”

“Okay,” panted the friend. “Oh,” he said as he rushed waste deep into the ocean's waves. He dunked his entire body underneath the salty current and began to relax.

His friend mimicked him.

Jack, the first to dip beneath the surface, became very clear headed. His thought process doubled in the relaxing state. At work he had been trying to detail how his aircraft could make space flight far more efficient and elegant. The mechanics of aerodynamics played in his head. Shifting from principle, to theory, to images of every type of aircraft fit for space flight as well as those only fit for Earth's atmosphere.

A faint tap on his shoulder retrieved him from his reverie. He emerged from the shallow depths, recuperating with an equal, steady breath.

“What?” Jack asked his friend.

“We were under there for more than ten minutes. Well, you were a tad longer than I.” He smirked.

“Hm. It only felt a few minutes to me.”

“What is it you were so lost in thought about?”

“That project for the company on a more efficient space shuttle. I was thinking of a more one man jet shuttle rather than a cargo flight shuttle. If I can continue to . . .”

Jack stopped and looked to the beach. A stray dog had wondered onto the beach, passing them by without stopping to observe them, just continuing on its way possibly in search of some scraps, which was more difficult now that recycling had been implemented and no rubbage was allowed. The dog would more than likely starve if no one adopted it.

The dog stopped and watched the man come sprinting towards it. It quickly turned and darted away from the approaching human.

Jack's attempt to apprehend the dog and devour it were halted when his friend tackled him to the sand. His friend yelled, “Jack stop it. Control yourself. It's a dog. We aren't allowed to do that anymore. Remember?”

Jack ceased his struggling. His body was beginning to overheat, which weakened him and also cleared his mind of the feral instinct of preying on the more living animals. “Get me back in the water, Derek.”

Derek dragged him into the cooling water. The waves grasping at his body; soon covering his face entirely. It gratefully eased his mind and allowed him to regain his self-control. He delved into his thoughts on developing an advanced spacecraft. For half an hour he remained submerged, exacting precise details on his soon-to-be realized idea.

Seven years post . . .

Kitra was no longer a teenage refuge alone. A group of five, two five years her junior and three now in the middle ages, came upon her and after realizing each other were not of the majority population of the world, they became a small family. Watching one another against the Gray Faces. All of them had avoided any and all Gray Faces after they entered into hotter areas.

Egypt was vacant of all Gray Faces. For the last five years they were the only inhabitants of the country. The kept their living situation hidden from the spy jets at all times. There was no set schedule predicting when the aircrafts would zoom overhead. But there was also the thousands of satellites which were once considered space junk around Earth, now restarted to monitor the planet as well as the visible solar system about it.

Two girls about the age of thirteen exited from a hole in the sand. There was lip over it to camouflage the shadow it made during the day, and the light it emitted during the night. Behind them followed Kitra, now eighteen. Her hair was short and unkempt. But her arms were visible and showed tone muscles. All of her body was like that. Having to run, hide, and go without a full meal sometimes during her adolescence kept her stringy. Now she was strong, ingesting more food than before, but exercising and training with her machete, hunting knife, and handgun.

The latter she used sparingly to practice with, and, therefore, was not as accurate a shot than could be.

“Kit, we're going to the deserted town. Hurry up, we want to get their quick,” said one of the teenage girls.

Both of them were jogging, fully clothed, save for hands and face in the hot dessert day. For four years the six of them had lived in the dunes, and for four years their bodies had adapted to the heathen climate. Running on the sand was the most challenging of their physical adapting. Staying cool was difficult also, but having cover over your body against the Sun was all that was needed.

Kitra did not tell them to slow down, or wait for her. She easily picked up the distance between them, slowing as she took up the rear. It was a half mile journey to the nearest abandoned city. No one had been there when they passed through it. And no one was there now.

“Are you going to go and practice your “fighting” skills, Kit?”

“Yes. But why did you say it like that?”

“We've been here for years and you have never had a need for your weapons.”

Kitra stared at them. She was not going to tell them that she planned on leaving the desert one day soon. “You can never get too comfortable where you are located. The world is a very small place now, and very violent towards us.”

“Whatever!” Both girls darted toward a sandstone building. “We'll be where we always are.” They hollered back to her.

There were two places Kitra would practice. It was at a single place, one indoors, and the other out-of-doors under a camouflage mesh roof. 'Practice in the Sun. Then practice out of the Sun.' She reminded herself before every training session.

Her first session was knife throwing. There were marks on the ground where she would stand, and from that distance she would throw her hunting knife, or machete, at a makeshift mannequin, made out of a wood beam with markings for the head and torso, and then two shortened logs attached at the bottom for thighs.

After she had connected with her target a number of times, she would recede from the target to another marker. Again repeating her session.

'Gray Faces. Always putting it differently. Just because they aren't all going around mindlessly chomping on every living thing doesn't mean they aren't zombies. They can smell us from our warm blood.'

She felt the heat rise in her breast and body. The hate boiling further to its peak. Controlling such outbursts is what kept her sane; is what told her separated them from her and the remaining humans of her kind.

Today was hastening away as her sessions became easier and easier for her. Almost too repetitive and not increasing the level of difficulty for her. Content with her outside practice she entered into the shaded enclosure of the building with sweat and sand melting off of her.

Inside she had bags of sand at her height or taller leaning up against one wall. In the center she had three bags of sand creating a circle. And in one corridor was a crudely made wooden attack dummy. Of these three she first attended the attack dummy. She wrapped no cloth or bandages around her forearms or hands. Instantly she went about hammering her fists and forearms into the hard wood surfaces of the dummy. Within a few seconds her knuckles and arms were bleeding lightly, but drying before they could cover a large surface of skin.

She continued on to the three circling dummies, and ended with the dummies against the wall. As she did this, she kept her mind clear and only on her workout. Never imagining a face, or thinking of her now detestable family, or the detestable Gray Faces that were the now dominant species on the planet, hastening forward unto the stars. Kitra only thought of the pain, the exercises, and the heat of the room. She often was so lost in her thought that she would overlap her schedule on each station. It was the only time she ignored her surroundings.

“Kitra!”

Her name came from the voice of one of the little girls. Next she heard the quick footsteps on the sand coming through the front entrance of her workout area. Both girls' faces were plastered with fear.

“What happened?” Kitra asked, standing in an attack stance.

The two young girls halted before Kitra. More fear dripping into them.

Kitra relaxed. “What is it?” She asked slowly.

They calmed before they spoke.

“We were coming to get you to tell you we were done and we're going to head back home. And . . .” The red-haired girl stopped.

The auburn girl began, “We looked up to see some flying device hovering over us. It wasn't making any noise and . . .” Both of the younger girls began crying.

“We're leaving.” Kitra grabbed her weapons.

She brought the girls to the door. “Which direction did it go?”

“We don't know. We just ran after seeing it.”

“Where were you standing when you saw it, and where was it?”

“Just in front of this house between yours and ours.”

Kitra motioned for them to stay and edged to the floor to look upward in the direction they indicated. There was no aircraft there. She stood up.

“We are going to move slowly out the door first. Then, when I say run, you run fast.”

The girls nodded.

Easily Kitra crept out of the covering of the house roof into the Sun and hot sand. She kept her eyes upward, only moving after she knew the aircraft was not in sight of where she was and where she was going next. At the edge of the abandoned town they were already sprinting to their home. Kitra kept a medium sized dune like-wall to one side of them half of the way home, while she watched the sky on her other side.

Fear was inhabiting the girls and it caused them to stumble multiple times. Each time they would cry even harder. Each time Kitra would pick them up and tell them to keep moving.

After the dune had depleted and they were completely exposed, Kitra had devised a plan with the girls.

“If that aircraft comes back, and I say duck, you lay flat on the ground and cover your eyes.”

They nodded in unison.

Their second half of the run was unperturbed by the silent aircraft.

'It has the information it needs. They will be sending in a task force to demolish the city and search for us. Then deliver us as a feast to their commanders.'

Safely inside the sand covered house, the two girls ran to their parents. Both crying harder even with the safety of their home about them.

The old man looked at Kitra, “What has happened?”

“Some silent drone spotted them in the town. It left after that. We ran the entire way hear without seeing it again.”

“Plan 20. GO!”

“General! Our drone spotted two young females in Egypt, sir. They were in one of the smaller villages out side of Giza.” The drone pilot reported.

He stood before the desk of a pale faced four star general. The general made no move to stand up, or dismiss the soldier. His hand picked up the red phone to his left. No numbers or symbols, or buttons were on the face of it. The drone pilot stood and waited while the the general waited.

“Mister Prime Minister. We have detected at least two humans in the desert outside of Giza. What are our orders, sir?”

He waited quietly.

“Yes, sir. Will do.”

He clapped the phone back to its place and addressed the pilot, “Keep at least four drones three miles outside of the area where they were spotted. Those drones will patrol the cardinal directions. You do not fire upon any movement, only surveillance and report. There will be ground troops coming in from the four directions. Dismissed.”

After the pilot had left, the general picked up his landline phone, and pressed in a few numbers. “Colonel. I need four fifteen man special forces teams sent to these coordinates. However, you do not fire upon any humans you discover. They are to be taken alive to Rome.”

A short pause as he listened to the colonel.

“Still a no . . .”

Chief Warrant Officer Miller reported the commands to his commanding officer. Within five minutes him and three other warrant officers were at their controls en-route to the coordinates. Ten minutes and each was conducting surveillance.

All of them were gather together in an open area of a hangar situated in a half circle. Their screens were separated from the one another. This refrained them from accidentally viewing the others screen assuming it is theirs. However, they were allowed to converse. Each one of them had over three hundred hours of flight time, and flying the drones was close to muscle memory technique.

“Anyone else here hope to pilot one of the many protection drones for the space flight missions?” The question came from Chief Warrant Officer Daniels.

“I would, if I wasn't trying to apply for flying one of the ships,” stated CW3 Miller.

“Yes, well, you are able. We three have only training in UAV,” responded CW3 Phillips.

“Don't give me that. Any one can transfer to any other occupation in the military they want. All you have to do is apply. There isn't a single person in the majority of the world who doesn't have a 140 IQ. It wouldn't take any of you more than three months to be capable of flying any manned aircraft.”

“You say that as if we don't know it, Miller. We do. The fact is every single person in the military is applying, or trying, to flight training. And though the number of aerial vehicles has increased, you still don't get to choose which, if any, you can fly. They still have to have pilots for aircraft inside the atmosphere as well.

“Where as drone aviators, we are at the top of the list to pilot the space drones. All of us are just patiently waiting for our acceptance and duties.”

A rhythmic high-pitched beeping was sounding on CW3 Millers screen. Circled in red were six individuals. The long cast shadows from the dipping sun alerted him that it was four adults and two teenage sized humans.

“Sir,” CW3 Miller addressed his commanding officer. “I have the humans. They are headed north, two miles and increasing. There are five, repeat five of them.”

His commanding officer turned away, and spoke into his headset.

“Squad leaders coming in from the north. The human group is heading in your direction. They are only two miles out from the designated coordinates. There are five in the group. Repeat. They are heading north, are two miles out and increasing, and there are five of them. Copy.”

“Copy, sir. We are half a mile to contact. Five individuals.”

“You do not harm them. Do you understand? They are to be escorted from the area. Copy.”

“Copy that, sir. Attain group, escort to launch pad, copy, sir.”

“Report when you are returning to FOB.”

“Copy.”

“Miller,” the commanding officer spoke. “Cease following them. You may be high enough in the sky, but I don't want them to get any more spooked than they already probably are.”

“Yes, sir.”

CW3 Miller changed directions, but still kept one eye on the group. They became small dots in the dunes as the distance between them increased. After five minutes he continued surveillance. There was speculation that there could be more than one group leaving the area. Within the next fifteen minutes the special forces team made contact, with only one of the individuals attempting assault. She was restrained and all six were escorted out of the desert and onto a cargo plane.

There was no other group leaving the area. All drones were called back. The three pilots retreated to their off duty schedule to enjoy a celebration.

Fifteen years post . . .

“How is the therapy going for your son, Sam?”

“He is improving. The doctors say he is showing signs of improving. Faster than the other children. They think that what they use on him will be as effective on the others,” Sam said. “He still, though, beats himself up for killing the dog. Whenever he sees any animal he starts crying and thinking of Pao. Then he puts his face in his pillow to keep from smelling the animal. Why is it that such carnage can overtake us, Bret?”

Bret was floating in his space suit next to the large craft. The emptiness of space was beautiful, the stars were more familiar, and the galaxy was visible in the vast openness. Their movements were slower than normal, but the suits were nothing like those used prior to fifteen years before, when the fog happened.

The suits were tighter around the body, assuming the shapes of the muscles in specific areas. It was not as tight as a wetsuit, but the skin and suit made contact. The air within their suit was enough to spread out over the body, and take in six lungs full. The exhaled air was then recycled through the suit and returned to a breathable gas. Their helmet was completely transparent, wrapping completely around their head with four inches of space from the surface of the head. (It was the third generation space suit from the designer).

“You ever watch the discovery channel or animal planet channel when you couldn't find anything else on television to watch?”

“I actually used to watch it rather than the other shows. Why?”

Both of them continued to moving around the structure, investigating ever surface.

“There was an episode on their about bears. The bear would gather up this food, eat dirt, and grass, and other vegetables. Then sometimes it would hunt a deer, or fight off another bear or wolves. Sometimes you would even hear on the news that a bear had killed people. They would search for the animal and kill it. Sadly, they are killing the bear because it was incapable of seeing a human and thinking, 'I can't attack that species. It is wrong to attack that species'. They kill it because it is incapable of consciously thinking on what to not kill.

Instead, they hunt it down, because some other species was in its area, and it decided to attack to protect itself, or cubs, or its meal. Indeed there are some animals out there that are “insane”, but that is no right to believe any feral animal that attacks a human species is insane. Its basic principles of itself is to survive. To eat, to sleep, to drink water, to protect itself, its food, its young. Why is it that humans had to kill it because they were in the wild and were attacked by one of the Wild's inhabitants?

“What I believe the fog did to us was made us less controlled by our basic instincts. But, when there is some other species around, our instinct to hunt and eat overtakes it. Though we have evolved into a highly intellectual species, capable now of space travel, and able to come to terms with other cultures, we shall always have some obstacle to overcome. Nature . . . she never ceases to aide or test us.”

Sam was quiet for a few seconds. The words from his friend reverberated through his mind. He studied the words and their message.

“Yes. Our children will be the ancestors who started the path for our physical enlightenment. They will adapt to control themselves completely, and it will continue, until our species is balanced. But, as you said, Nature will continue to test us.

“Thank you, Bret. I am going to tell my boy that when I see him later.”

“Are you going to be making a trip down to the surface soon?” Bret asked.

“In a week. I have to do it every two weeks, until he is capable of overcoming his outbursts. Then, he and my wife will be able to come up here.”

“Just another few years. Can you imagine it? I am extremely excited.” Bret's voice was shivering with excitement.

Twenty-five years post . . .

Outside it was mid-day in the tundra. The green of flora was faded to a light-brown, the mountains were gray and void of any white caps of snow at their peaks. In fact, the vegetation was a majority of shrubs no higher than the average sized person's knee. At the base of the mountain range was a thin cropping of dim-green, with only a few extending farther.

A woman in a turtle-neck, dress pants, and clean, comfortable shoes, peered out onto the scenery. She soaked in every detail; categorizing it, its place on the planet, its name, the country it inhabited, all within a specific garden in her mind's eye. It was wedged directly between the tropical rainforest of South America, the desert of Egypt, the rolling hills of Scotland, and the frozen continent of Antarctica.

'The last image for my mind's garden.'

A few younger women strode up behind her. One of them spoke, “Madam, they are ready to lift-off.”

Madam took one last deep breath, then turned and walked along the empty halls to her jets boarding area. They entered the plane and took their four seats at the front of the passenger area. 'Goodbye, sweet Earth.' Madam thought.

She was in her mid-fifties. For twenty-five years she had been clear-minded and thoughtful. Before the fog she was a a shopping mart's clerk. Blandly checking people's items for them, taking their money, giving them their change and receipt, and then sending them on their way so as to help the next customer. When the fog hit, she had been day dreaming of seeing America. Though she liked her country, she was in need of an adventure that would be affordable, varying, and not having to show her passport every two hundred miles or more.

When the thick gaseous compound rushed through her nose, and gripped at her brain and heart and lungs, all she could think of was how she never did anything exciting and meaningful. A few hours later, she awoke. In her new found state of a more agile and powerful thought process, she drove to her flat.

It was almost an instant walk. For she had been thinking of a software that would aide a person in developing and testing their inventions, or theories, without needing any assistants from a laboratory, or financial backing from some conglomeration of the wealthy. Once she entered her flat, she retrieved a notebook and a pen and began detailing the algorithm, and binary agents that would be the foundation of the software. The only thing needed for the operation to work quickly and efficiently was an internet connection and an up-to-date computer system.

The information which she needed for such a monumental undertaking had been learned four years ago in school. It was a class she had barely passed and found boorish. Yet, the basic information needed was there, and the advanced data she needed she would simply just buy the books needed on her electronic reader tablet.

In two weeks, she had completed the software on only thirty-six hours of sleep and small meals. The work had immersed her so deeply that she was unaware of the Great Change that had happened because of the fog.

'I wonder who would be willing to make this software available to everyone at a reasonable price, while also making a good profit on it for a good cause.' Madam thought in her youth.

She continued to think as she absentmindedly made herself some lunch. 'There are at least two options for it. Either a multi-billion dollar computer software industry, or the government.'

At this point, she was still unaware of the great sociological evolution that had taken place throughout the majority of the Earth's population. She did not realize that no matter which decision she made that either of the options would gladly aide her in her endeavor without any nefarious agendas.

Returning to her laptop with her lunch, she noticed the date at the bottom of the screen. Her blue eyes widened. “What!? That can't be!” She clicked on the calendar. “Oh my god!”

Madam began looking around hastily.

“Sheer,” she called. “Sheer,” she called again.

A dark calico cat came in from the bedroom door. Happy and prideful as all cats are.

“Sheer! Come here, baby. Oh, I lost track of so much time. I thought I had completely forgotten about you. I thought you were dead.” Madam held the well-fed cat in her arms grateful for somehow feeding her precious feline without remembering.

Still holding her cat the cat she closed her laptop, took her sandwich into the small kitchen table and sat down. Both Madam and Sheer enjoyed her sandwich. “Oh, my bestest friend. I shall never forget about you again,” she promised as she bumped her forehead against her cat's, who affectionately rubbed against it.

Now, she sat through the ascending of the jets climb to the large space craft orbiting the Earth. It resembled a large outline of a cube, transparent. At its eight corners were large orbs, the attaching edges were long rectangles extending to the adjacent sphere five miles away. In the center of the large cube was a central cube attached to each of the eight spheres by eight corridors.

Her jet entered a docking area for it to connect, attach to, and be retracted into the small opening where it would be stored for its voyage. A tear of hers floated before her as they were slowly pulled in to the shuttle bay are of the large space craft. It fell from the air onto her leg, as they entered into the space craft's artificial gravity field. He memories of Earth were well preserved in her Memory Garden. Her cat Sheer playing and prancing amongst the plants and flowers.

“Who are they? The ones shackled and being led to that concrete building?” A young man asked.

He was dressed in a gray suit. It did nothing to help compliment the large scars upon his face. Nor did the limp seem more elegant from the artificial leg that was hidden by the dress pants that concealed it.

The Gray Face beside the chestnut colored man answered, “They are the ones who are incapable of controlling themselves. Many of them are uncaring that they are far more intellectual and capable of bettering themselves. Instead, they use their enhanced intelligence to concede and carry-out atrocious crimes that are just the same as before the fog, but, are far more difficult to find and capture the criminals.”

They both walked into the shade of the building into a beautiful arrangement of colors and mosaics on the windows, walls, and floors. Arabic signs displaced under them with a saying. Both the chestnut colored man and the Gray Face smiled at the words.

“I will not presume that you will be taking them with you all.”

“No. They will all be put to death before we leave.”

“It seems illogical as your species would say to do that, do you not think. Aren't they capable of becoming better?”

“Rarely the matured, and seasoned, rehabilitate from such years of detriment. If they were younger, they would easily be able to control their carnal urges. It is completely logical to put to death those who are so horrid, and not to mention deceptive, rather than spend millions of precious resources to keep them comfortably tucked away somewhere.

“But, you must remember they have overwhelming evidence to condemn them. We wouldn't just throw them into the volcano because of speculation, or testimony. Many innocent individuals of our shared history have been murdered because of the irrational beliefs and overwhelming pressure from others.”

Once again the two men exited into the Sun and windblown sand, entering into a car. They rode along, still conversing.

“Little more than twelve thousand humans to be left on Earth. It will be difficult.” The chestnut man said.

“Prime Minister. It can only be difficult by complaining and believing it will be difficult. Your species is being left with your natural resources to last until you are ready to leave this planet before its due appointed end.

“We have implemented laws that will keep order and civility in the people. And, also, laws, and principles which will prevent corruption from returning to positions of power, such as your positions and those that advise you.”

It was short ride. The car parked beside a large, black space jet. Similar to that of the one Madam boarded. The Arabic Gray Face stood at the base of the steps that led to the entrance of the space craft, his friend, Prime Minister, standing beside him.

“Yes. It will be comfortable now. You're right. We will become a bettered society. Indeed, we will have our struggles still, it's natural for my species.” Prime Minister inhaled slowly and deeply. Releasing as he said, “I do hope that we will not destroy ourselves though. Still have weapons of harm, eccentric beliefs and people.” He just stared out at the beautiful city and all of its spaciousness.

“Sometimes to evolve, a species needs a forceful, global, instigation to see to it. Other times, it takes that species to implicate the evolution. All that kind of evolution takes is a single person to appeal to every person. To strive for that advancement of the species in a positive. You just have to know who that person is when they appear, and aide her, or him, in their imploring to change.”

They shook hands. The Gray Face ascended the stairs. As the jet took off into the blue sky, the Prime Minister watched as it sailed out of sight, but one path for the small, visible transparent cube in the sky. He looked at the other hundred with it above him.

 'To the stars you ascend. The gods who can no longer remain and must leave for us to ascend one day as well. I only strive that when we leave here, there will be no separation of species. But, if there is, we will travel into the cosmos, following the trail to another cradle for life.”