'39

Last man on earth, with severe schizophrenia and a fit of puppy love. Thick with Science Fiction.

 

It was a scientific miscalculation. The reason I’m here was nothing more then a miscalculation.  I looked out upon the scarred and desolate landscape that now consumed the earth. Not a single glimpse of life was spared from the man-made incineration. I couldn’t help but reminisce about all those lost on the journey behind me. I am the only survivor.

            “Good morning!” a voice from behind me didn’t just break the ice; it shattered it into a dimension unlike from our own. It was the Instructor showing everyone into the ships.

            Soon, the others started chatting about their anxiety and hopes for the mission to come. We were not here by choice. A government lottery system choose 150 ‘volunteers’ at random from a pool of choice candidates. Only 139 showed up. Some burned their letters, others protested publicly. They were sent to jail. Others resolved to take their own life. We were to take a year long trip past the outer rim to search for a new planet to inhabit. We, the 139 brave volunteers, were to set sail tomorrow morning. My mother pleaded with the officers at my door telling them I wasn’t right in the head, but to no avail. She was not lying; however they reassured her that it was for the greater good.

            After our instructor offered her ice shattering welcome we packed ourselves into the three ships ready for departure. Originally each ship was to hold 50, however today it was two ships of 50, and one ship of 39. As to why the participants were not evenly distributed between the ships eludes me still to this day. The cheers and applause generated by the audiences watching from comfortable distances away were soon replaced by the quiet roar of the three massive intergalactic ferries. Not but three minutes later we were past the moon, immersed in space, en route to the mysteries the universe had to offer.

            Noise makers, champagne, and celebration filled the hull from wall to wall. However I couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that consumed my inner mind. Or perhaps I celebrated with everyone else. My memory falters quite often. I never understood it growing up, but have stopped relaying on it for its treachery. For me the line separating reality and my inner imagination is a very fine one, almost always swaying from side to side, never staying taut for more then a second after I take my medication. I’ve gotten use to it.

After having traveled for so many days in this barren wasteland I have yet to see or hear anything from my inner-mind. I’m almost becoming nostalgic for even a glimpse of some heart jerking image from my subconscious. The only sound is that of the wind howling and the gentle melody of the necklace box given to me by my love.

“Please, take this!” she yelled as a brown embroidered necklace box was thrust into my hand. I was so horrible with words. I still am. I fumbled with my vocabulary momentarily before reaching the words uttered by my mother only moments prior.

“I love you.” the words spilt out of my mouth as I tightened my arms around her. Crying, she constricted her arms around me. I never wanted to let go. The instructor came to show us all off. The elevator took me and several others to the cat walk leading to the ship. I looked back at my love and returned her wave. My father, standing by my weeping mother, gave me a nod of the head, which I returned with a glowing smile. Then I disappeared into the doorway of the ship.

There is nothing for miles. The soil has turned grey with death. My foot hit a patch of green soil. I stared at it for a moment before the realization came to me. My hallucinations were back. I’d forgotten who I was without them. It’s almost as if they serve as a reminder that I’m still me. I continued walking along the barren and desolate landscapes of a world destroyed by chaos before I noticed that there were several other patches of very green soil. My first thought jumped to radioactivity, but upon closer inspection I found them to be plants. Small plants were taking root in the corrupted lifeless soil. My backpack was heavy. I took my pinky finger and began my calculations in the dark grey soil. If I eat ¾ of a ration each day, I could survive for 15 years. Maybe, just maybe, these tiny blades of proto-grass would be edible by then. My pack contained only a water bottle, a vapor to water generator, and several bricks of rations. My back ached from its weight, so I took rests frequently. My water generator also had trouble doing its job due to the excess of dirt and lack of water vapor in the air. I conserved what little water I had, but often times found myself pouring tiny sips on the patches of green as I walked by them. A foolish hope resides in me. 

Large black eyes stared into mine. The pale gray elongated face of a monster not of this world sat inches away from my nose with a creeping grin.

“An alien,” I stated rather abruptly.

Everyone turned around to look, but just as quickly turned away, obviously annoyed. We were all sitting in rows as the general assembly ensued. A few murmurs from the crowd told the story of everyone’s thoughts.

“How did a basket-case like that ever get selected?” was the overall jest. The response of others no longer weighed on my thoughts. I had become used to it over my long foray into the realm of reality. I was still not sure whether or not I belonged here, but now I had no choice. The director’s news chilled us all to the bone. She told us, with tears running down her face, that in the 3 months we’ve been gone over 150 years had passed on earth and war now consumed the nations. After the assembly I stood in my room, looking out the window. I had the necklace box open in my hand. Its gentle melody filled the room with memories of my love. My thoughts were stricken with sadness, but no tears fell. While watching the other two ships speed away with a velocity equal to my own I vowed never to let this box or the memories of my love be swayed by my mental illness. Suddenly one of the ships began to accelerate rapidly toward its port-side vector. It was trying to turn around. Its hull came closer and closer to ours, but our captain was quick on his feet. We raised the bow of our ship and I flew toward my window. My nose bled ferociously as my body slammed against the wall. I could see into the windows of the other ship. Body fragments and massive accumulations of blood lined the walls. The other ship’s rapid acceleration had been too much for the volunteers to take. We were lucky enough to dodge, but the third ship was done for. Both ships cut their engines in a hope to decelerate, but all that remained in the end was a huge clutter of metal. The ship’s speakers held our captain’s voice as he requested a moment of silence for the lives lost. The director planned on continuing our journey, however decided to decelerate massively. This change in speed would take us three more years in get to our destination, but we would be back to earth in 50. The only things waiting for us past the outer-rim were anarchy and chaos.

I stopped moving around and soon the dust settled. I no longer had to clean my water generator hourly. However I no longer needed a water generator. Only months after the dust settled did a stream of pure colorless water come rushing past me from higher ground. Perhaps this land will accommodate me for the rest of my life.

By my calculation from the movement of the stars it’s been five years since I made this land my home. All varieties of bushes and even trees have sprouted to join me making this soil our residence. These plants are not yet ready to eat, but since I stopped traveling I need only half a ration to sustain me. My foolish hope tells me that they will soon become ready to eat.

I’ve lasted 20 years on this once grey soil. The trees and bushes have spread far and wide. The ground has gone from being a dark grey, to a black, and now onto a brownish-orange. Still, these bushes and trees produce nothing to sustain me. Their leaves are bitter and give my stomach pain. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten. My stomach has become painful by definition and any water I drink leaves my body almost instantaneously; either by natural methods or by rejection. My arms and legs ache and burn, the only thing to divert myself with is planting more trees. I dig and dig. My finger tips are overwhelmed by calluses. My pain is nothing as long as I continue. A sharp sting fills my arms. I suddenly hear the melody from my old necklace box, but it stopped working years ago. I look down on what I’ve uncovered. There lies my love, still and sleeping. Her pink soft flesh remains perfect even over all these years. I fell down next to her and the melody became louder.

“Good morning,” a voice shattered the melody, just as it had shattered the ice.

I stood looking out the window of the ship. There lay the planet destined to be the next earth. It was bright blue and full of life. A long rod of scrap metal weighed down on my hand as I clutched it tight. My face lowered instinctively to see what had become of our dear captain. He was surly dead; blood covered the floors and my rod of metal. No one would believe me.

“What have you done?” shrieked the instructor as she opened the door.

“He attacked me!” I pleaded. All was as I thought. She took it that I was lying. I had no choice but to defend myself against her too. One by one they all attacked me. Instinctively I fought them all off. Everything had become survival of the fittest in the end. Social order became enveloped by three years of chaos. I had trusted the captain, but he had betrayed me. 

I was back with my love, before I entered the ship. We stood clutching each other as the necklace box produced its beautiful tune. She let go and stood before me. I looked down to see the blood covering my hands. I wiped them both clean on my pants. The instructor came showing me the way to the ship.

“I love you!” I yelled. Tears ran from my eyes like two waterfalls. I grabbed the hand of my love and took off. Away from the ship, and away from my destiny, so my love and I might be alone. We ran through a forest and fell, laughing, down onto the soft brown soil the forest had to offer. I am a man who has been betrayed by his eyes, his ears, his memories, and his destiny.

“What’s wrong?” the captain asked me with his calm and gentle voice. He sensed that there was something wrong with me.

“Do you plan to kill me?” I asked him with shaking anger in my voice.

“Are you serious?” asked the captain, appalled, “I would never do such a thing!”

I killed him. Then I killed the rest of them. The hull reeked of blood all the way back to earth. No one survived, save me.

I soon realized that I had actually simply uncovered a skeleton while digging my hole into the soil. This hole was larger then any seed needed to be planted, it’s because I was no longer meaning to plant trees. Although I am clearly surrounded by trees, I was never actually planting them. I was digging the graves of all those I killed. I never travelled this land. It was all a deception on my memories behalf. Regardless, this gap in the earth is now my grave. I lay crying for the first time in my life hugging this random skeleton, but I didn’t care anymore. I closed my eyes tight in an effort to stifle my tears. Upon opening my eyes the skull had returned to the soft beauty of my love. The melody of the necklace played loud in my ears. I turned my head up to see my mother and father standing above me. My mother was crying, but her mouth twisted upwards into a smile. My father nodded.

I suppose my hallucinations did not serve as a wall between me and reality, but rather a way for those I love to always live on. Or perhaps it was all just a hallucination to begin with. Regardless, I relaxed the muscles in my neck and let my head fall silently back to the earth. My gaze now sat upon the face of my love. She smiled back at me.

“I love you,” she says softly as my eyes glide silently together. For the first time in over two centuries, rest and comfort no longer elude me. 

 

 

 

© Copyright 2007 Alex Lewandowski. All rights reserved.

Author's Note

Everything is open to your own interpretations. I'll answer any specific questions you may have.

Reviews

[I'm his Muse]

Interesting. It has a hint of an actual story called; The Lottery but it has a spaceage/futuristic flavor too.

Good start...keep going. I"m reading.