The Garden

A Story by SpaceKnight

For over eighty years, a being known as the Caretaker has planned to save mankind from themselves. His plan has now finally come to fruition. A short story.

Life is beautiful. It is unpredictable. It simply manifests, like a flame. A flame that is willed into existence solely due to a number of precise circumstances and prerequisites. In the most literal sense of the word, life is a miracle. Every single life within life in general is a miracle. The smallest of events shape an entity and teach it to grow, expand and evolve. Without one event happening in the entity's history, their knowledge of self and entire life's framework will be drastically differed. The unpredictability of life is the most beautiful aspect.

A transparent polysteel wall veils the wealth of possibilities and stories from my direct gaze. They were all created here. Beyond the polysteel screen are millions of orange bubbles skewered by an array of pipes and rods, duly glowing in the dark chamber. In the glow, my eyes can grasp the visage of a tiny silhouette beyond the glossy film of the bubble. Reeled over, arms bent idly before the chest and knees naturally bent. Within all of these bubbles, rests the next stepping stone for human life. Each bubble is the womb for a motherless child. A fatherless child. They are each a child of this Earth. Of mine.

I hail the retrieval drone forth, waving at the tiny construct which sputters around above the children. "Extract product twenty seven alpha five." I speak to it. The drone responds to me with a cheerful chirp and proceeds with its task with glee.

My eyes do not leave the body of the child as I await the drone to accomplish its mission. The drone hovers gently above the orange bulb and extends a bladed arm to penetrate the slimy bio-film that encases this one. Trails of steam and gas spiral from the slit in the bubble like a volley of fireworks in the sky. Then, there comes a beautiful sound. A cry. A hollar for attention. It needn't cry for my attention, for it is already invested.

I watch the drone scoop the pus-soaked child out from the sac and speed into the access port in the far right wall. As soon as the drone leaves my presence, I spin on my heels and forward into the next chamber.

A single light is on the ceiling of this room. Underneath this sheet white glow is a just as pale table, which bears the fruit of my existence. I approach the child, its crying growing with my steps. As if I bear the very universe in my arms, I clutch the newborn in my cold and thin arms before I speak to it. "Product twenty seven alpha five, male, welcome to life."

With the final piece of the puzzle finally in my arms, I leave the birthing chambers for the final time in my existence.

I realise that my mission has neared completion. I feel...impatience. My form is not striding fast enough down the halls. I am too close. I turn into a cool, silent room with the child safe in my arms. Inside this room, illuminated by the glows of blue glowing fluids, are one billion pods. These pods are filled with the glowing fluids that give this chamber its light. I make haste to the one empty pod, which I tower over. The pod welcomes my presence by folding open for me. I gently drop the child into the blue fluids, being careful not to spill the important substance.

As I slither away from the pod, it shuts and my attention drifts to another form. In the doorway is one of the old ones. His worn, wrinkled and loose face hangs over his skull like a curtain. His tight lips begin to shift and a barely audible whistle rolls from it "I remember my father telling me how close I was to not being born all those years ago...I beat the disease by a matter of days. If I had been due several days later, I would've died like all of the other unborn children in the word. I watched as bloodlines were stopped cold...families were simply ended. Without children, where was our future? Caretaker...do you understand what you have done? We have gone almost a century without a single human child being born...and now...are you sure it will work?"

His words are hollow. Meaningless to me. I was created for this purpose. His doubts on my accomplishment of what I was intended to do is illogical. Do I congratulate him for breathing? No, so he should not doubt me. "The children will be immune to the infection. They will be able to reproduce." I answer politely.

Sparkling tears run from his sunken eyes now, leaving me in a position of contemplation. He wheezes with a deep breath "What is the next phase of operations?"

I step away from the old one, leaving him in his place in the doorway. As I move from him, a cleanly cut blue hologram appears at my side. I say "The produce must be flash-aged to the prime age of twenty two Earth years. They will be ready to repopulate. But before we begin, the disease must be nullified."

The old one remains silent. I am not aware of why he stays so. My hands dance across the holographic controls for the ventilation system as this silence continues to creep. He finally speaks "Nullified...? You have found a cure?"

My programming does not allow me to lie, so I will not. "Yes." The definition of cure is a means to end a certain stage or condition. The solution I have planned can be seen as a cure. The dynamic nature of the human psyche allows me to easily mislead this weary one. He is tired of this world. He will not think clearly. "I will inject the cure into the ventilation system of the main facility."

A laugh leaves the old one. The first I have heard in a long time. "You're brilliant. The others don't even have to come down here for the cure, they will--"

This is unexpected. A distress call is emanating from the upper levels. A video feed begins to play. I allow it to. Another old one appears on the display. They all appear the same to me. He coughs blood before he pleads to me "Caretaker, something's wrong! The vents...they're killing us! It's gas!"

They are so naive. They don't even suspect that I am purposely attempting to murder them all. My children are here to ensure the fate of humanity, and as long as the old ones survive, the infertility disease has a potential to infect them. I will not allow my children to meet the same fate as the old ones, forced to live without purpose. Now, I will ensure the disease dies with them. Though, they have assisted me and the one with me deserves to know why his generation is dying as he stands helpless. The one featured in the video feed finally succumbs to the chemical weapon I personally designed, prompting me to turn to the sole survivor of the infected.

His face has become even more pale, with pure shock and fear. I speak to him "Your people carried the disease. There was a risk of infection. The risk must be nullified. I hope you understand that for the survival of your race, you must perish."

The old one attempts to speak, but is halted. I detect anomalies in his heart beat. It was disappointing that this one simply ended himself. His eyes are widen and transfixed on me with a bond harder and stronger than any material. His left arm clutches his right and he falls. Gracefully. I watch as if time is passing at 0.1% it's normal pace. Only in life can such an unpredictable reaction be found. It feels like an hour has passed when his body lies still on the floor. It has been done. The planet has been quarantined. The remaining survivors took refuge in my facility. Like sheep to the slaughter. Now this life can continue.

Before me are one billion lives. One billion instances of pure chance. Within those instances of chance, trillions of possibilities. What will they become? What will they do? That is the beauty of life.

© 2014 SpaceKnight

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Featured Review

K. Payne

Your word choices were simply magical. Every word and sentence flowed beautifully. The narrator's love of life and possibilities intrigued me, how he cares for the humans' future did as well. With what you wrote, I didn't have any questions unanswered. Very nice, and keep it up.
-Kay