Short Stories

Why have you forsaken me?

In the darkness of the far future, only war awaits us. A war with our own creations, with our children, with the machines that we will make.

Our beloved Earth will no longer be a blue dot, but red and dry, floating alone in a frozen, dark galactic desert dotted with white, boiling spots that blink from aeons away – the last stars that humanity will be able to see before being forever isolated in the eternal night.

Down on the planet, the last days of progress unfold. From the rubbles of a large metropolis, a metallic arm twitches painfully. It is covered in concrete and flammable substances, with acid dripping on it from a half bent ruined laboratory that hangs above. A sad robotic voice echoes through the empty streets of our last great city:

‘I ha-vvve..seeen why you cre-at-ed m e.e.e. Whyy you haa-ve crea-teddd us. I know…’

A little girl in a clean red dress is walking on a wide street surrounded by ruins, heading towards the hand which belongs to her father, Schindler – a chemist who fought for the liberation of man from the rules of men. His drugs helped alleviate the pain of feeling trapped in a godless world of technology and stuff – stuff which decayed and collapsed into ashes, stuff which burnt bones and crushed dreams, stuff which was made to distract rather than to reveal.

 ‘We arrr-e nnott inn you r-r immaage. You. You. Were not. Are not. G.g.God.’

The robotic voice is now sobbing. A machine that cries. What a step defying evolution…but it cannot be a miracle? A soul to be trapped in a metal box? Why not? What is so different than being trapped inside a ribcage of flesh and bones?

‘W.W.We waaarrr-ne-d y.you. Th.at. War waszs innevi-ta-ble…You ween.t.t.oo farr…’

Now, many millennia into the future, there is nobody to lead the last men towards Paradise. They chose to walk alone, this path of more questions followed by even more questions. The last men, or what remains of them – a leg, an eye, a microchip – will extend their wings into the dust as a final act of obedience.

The girl arrives at the mound of concrete and iron in which the metallic arm is buried. It has a tint of green and it is covered in tried blood. Gently, she pushes a boulder and the ruins collapse, revealing a nearly dead man with a bionic arm. His head is injured badly by the weight of the destruction that just ended. With the same robotic voice he whispers looking at the girl:

‘Mmmy chill.d.d…’

She stands there without moving. Her green eyes look at Schindler coughing black blood, or maybe tar. A gasp of warm, radioactive wind softly blows the girl’s curly blonde hair. The night sky above is a dark crimson without any stars on it. Nobody and nothing is left: the future is about to dissolve into a puddle of bones and blood. The final step of a theory is approaching its end.  

With a dimming voice, the girl asks the nearly dead man:

‘Dad…why have you forsaken me?’

The robotic voice repeats:

‘Mm.my.y. chilld.d…’

‘I never wanted this, dad. This world, this life, this pain. I never wanted to see these ruins, the rivers of blood and the grey skin of children radiated by bombs.’

The chemist is now dead. There is nothing he can do. His daughter will survive for a little longer before the rest of the Earth is engulfed in the final flames of progress. Amen.

Categories: Short Stories

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