11
He stared out the frost-coated window down at the same place he always looked at. He’d stare down at it for hours each day counting the minutes until he could actually go there. Go back home. Today he was going back to Earth and was beleaguered by immense joy. If he had a family, they were waiting for him, he told himself. All he could remember from his life on Earth was his name. Steve. Nothing else came to him.
Steve recalled the bitter day he woke up. It was dreadfully cold as he stumbled out of the rectangular prism. A blue LED light was glowing from the box and whatever horrid substance that had been keeping Steve alive all this time was now suffocating him—or maybe it was that he was breathing pure oxygen again for the first time in a long time. For whatever reason, Steve collapsed and felt a burning acidic bile rise in his throat. He spit it out on the cold floor and coughed violently. His hands, now almost burning with a new warm sensation were still tipped with frost. Steve shook his cold, frost coated brown hair and felt the frozen locks of hair start to drip with water.
Another torrent of violent coughs raged through his lungs and he felt a steaming sense of frustration. Who was he? Where was he? The answers didn’t come to him, but he figured he should find them. He used shaky arms and legs to find the exit. As soon as he grabbed the cold handle and opened up the door, a beam of fluorescent light danced across the floor. Steve could now make out the aligned hall of rectangular boxes lit by the same dull blue glow. A sick sadness overcame him as he realized that he was the only one who survived out of dozen or so others. The floor was covered in grime and puke. The prism from which he came was a cryogenic chamber linked with stems that fueled oxygen, nutrients, and other vital necessities.
When Steve entered the hallway, brightly lit with nostalgic fluorescent lights, he felt a little bit more grounded—though he didn’t know truly what that meant. All he’d find out was how to work the computers and keep the plants growing until he could leave.
That day, 3 years later was today. Steve smiled a bit, almost laughing. He’d learned so much, and was exhilarated to be learning more. He wanted to know what real sunlight felt like. He wanted to find the cold in snow and explore the beauty of spring. So much was ahead of Steve and he couldn’t wait to get started. Three years of generating enough power to reboot the system and today he had finally reached his goal. Three days from today, he’d be grounded—for good.
Steve put on a comfortable pair of jeans and a nice cotton blue t-shirt on. On top of the comfort cloths he put on, he suited himself with a life suit and helmet. He then walked down the hallway, familiarized with the placement of everything in the building. The first left led to the greenhouse, the next turn to his bedroom. The third was to the lab, and the fourth was the exit chamber. Right next to the airlock was a picture of a girl that Steve suspected he knew before he came here. He smiled at the picture of the girl with brown hair and blue eyes and shoved it deep in the zippered pocket of his life suit. He made a slight gesture to his old home, and looked towards his new one.
Steve felt the physical rumble of the spacecraft as it fumed into a launch. Outside the large glass panel, he saw the same constellations he’d familiarized himself with all this time. Maybe the view from Earth would be different. Steve found himself overwhelmed with joy. His eyes sparkled with hope as he looked down at Earth, its many colors. The only thing that made Steve unsure was the way the land formations looked from up where he was. On a map—and there were many—he’d seen 7 distinct land masses called “Continents”. When he looked down upon Earth now, he saw many different and smaller land masses covering the surface of the planet. It looked much more different, but perhaps it had changed since the maps were made.
After launch had initiated and the spacecraft was drifting safely at a speed of 17,500 miles per hour towards its destination, Steve relaxed. Three days was a long wait for someone like Steve. He wondered what it would be like if his comrades were alive to see the shuttle in action. He remembered seeing a picture hanging above his bed with the three of them. There was a man is his early twenties who had blonde hair and dark green eyes. He had an arm on Steve’s shoulder. The girl beside him was the same girl from Steve’s photo. Remembering her, he took it out. On the back of the crumpled little photo was a handwritten note. It read, I’m looking down at you, Claire, and counting the days until I see you again. Steve knew he’d written this. He’d recognized his own handwriting even if he’d lost most of his memory.
Maybe it was Claire that Steve looked forward to meeting the most. But perhaps it was anyone. Anyone at all would satisfy Steve’s hunger for human interaction. He wanted to use his voice to talk to someone who wasn’t himself. He didn’t talk very often, but sometimes he’d mumble just enough to hear his own husky, choked, words.
Steve folded the photo back up and shoved it back in his pocket. He’d taken everything off except for his cloths underneath. His faded denim jeans, and soft cotton blue t-shirt. Looking out the window was always very serene. It made Steve feel comfort for some reason. The rule he lived by was that everything happened for a reason. It comforted him when he got sad about his memory loss. Though these words calmed him down, he never felt complete knowing he’d had a family once, and couldn’t even picture their faces.
Steve sighed heavily and forced his mind on to other topics. He pulled out the journal that he’d written in out of his backpack. As he stroked the leather cover, he smiled. If Steve ever felt down, he could count on his pen and ink to cheer him up. He’d write for hours every day and keep a log of all the astounding discoveries he’d made. Drawn on each page were silly sketches and doodles of various things. He had sketches of novas and doodles of spacecraft blueprints. Maybe the trip wouldn't be so long if he had his journal to rely on.
Steve had done the same things for the past three days. Stare out the window for a couple hours, than sketch in his journal, than eat his daily meal and go to bed. It all changed when he entered the outer atmosphere of Earth.
A huge crashing sound tore Steve from his slumber. Red lights flashed and storming sirens pounded through the thin air like a high-frequency drum. For a moment Steve was suspended in confusion, his mind adrift. Suddenly he ripped the single blanket from himself and almost shot out of bed. Falling into his chair by the front computer, he saw a field of floating debris spiraling all around him.
He immediately, without looking, felt for the control panel in a quick effort to dodge the debris. He did so to the first layer of debris, but they were spinning, and the air resistance Steve’s ship was making the debris harder to evade. A sharp panic threatened to consume Steve. He took in a deep breath and pushed it out of his lungs.
“Everything,” He panted, hearing his husky voice again. “happens,” A spinning scrap of metal merely scratched his ship’s surface. “for,” He avoided a large metal pole. “a reason.” He assured himself. It wasn’t much, but it did something.
Steve felt for the radio, and flicked the switches, trying to contact anyone. When no one answered, he felt panic rise and fall in his chest once again. He knew his radios were probably outdated though. Maybe the signal was just broken or something, he thought.
The debris started to become less and less of an issue as Steve finally neared his destination. A ping of excitement danced inside him. He watched as the speed of the spacecraft started to accelerate. He felt the powerful rocking of the ship and the pressure of it’s decent. Using the skills that Steve had acquired from the multiple resources back at the L.L.C, (Lunar Launch Center) he started to get the spacecraft ready for landing. The ship slowed down just enough to lessen the stress in Steve’s chest. As it slowed more and more, Steve watched at the shuttle dipped below the soft ocean of clouds.
Steve laughed loudly and smiled widely. Suddenly a panic arose inside him, when he saw nothing but a grass field as a landing. If Steve’s calculations were correct, he should have been landing at the National NASA space center in Houston, Texas, but here he was—and all he saw was a field.
It was too late to change course, and the landing was rough, but Steve made it. Nearly bursting with the thrill of being on Earth, Steve almost forgot about the absence of humanity for miles. Nothing added up. The land formations, the space center not being where it was supposed to, the layer of debri circling Earth's atmosphere, but Steve hardly even took notice, for he was back home again.
Steve pushed open the airlock door so harshly it could have bounded off its hinges, but it didn’t. With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Steve maneuvered off the spacecraft and felt his feet fall onto the hard ground. Another uproar of chuckles erupted from Steve as he ran for almost all of the day through the beautiful green hills. He took off his shoes and felt the soil between his toes. He pulled grass out its roots and held it to his cheeks. He even hugged a tree that was rooting at the head of the forest.
He felt like he could fly, even though being grounded made no difference. (Well to him at least.) The foolishness ended abruptly though when Steve stuck his hands in his pockets and felt the crumpled photo. Where was his family? Why weren’t they waiting for him? Steve's excitement faded as quickly as it came. He frantically looked around. He called out to anyone. He ran for miles until he came to different landscapes. But no one was there. And Steve saw nothing, but the same unchanging desolation he’d been seeing for a long time.
Steve got lost, and it was getting dark. He couldn’t find his way back to his humble little shuttle of an abode, so he camped out in the darkness of a heavily populated forest, and the darkness inside his heart was as dark as the world around him.
Steve slept for a couple hours under a small tree with low branches, but was suddenly interrupted by the company of something quite horrific. Towering over Steve was a figure. A tall skeletal figure with glowing soulless eyes and a bow clasped in its grasp. Steve, terrified, moved to make a run for it, but an arrow darted into the cloth of his t-shirt pinning him to the tree. In a desperate effort to escape the creature, he yanked his shirt harshly from the tree, ripping the collar. Before the creature could swipe a second shot, Steve was running far away.
Steve ran for miles and miles, dodging arrows and running away from over-sized mutated creatures. Finally he hid under a small crevice and waited for a while only to at last be relieved by the comfort of silence. Steve was hungry and tired and frustrated and confused. And one voice, a voice he’d never heard before, tore through his conscience. It came from the creatures and the silence of the night. It was spoken of by the crickets and rang through every gust of wind. It whispered,
“You constructed you’re attempts to save our dying existence, but not even a trace remained of your solid structure.”
Steve couldn’t understand what this meant, but he fell asleep with those words repeating in his head. Steve knew one thing now, and would continue to keep that one thing in mind as he drifted into slumber. And for the rest of the night, he slept soundly, but sorrowfully. For he was, and had been for a long time, the last trace of humanity.
Steve recalled the bitter day he woke up. It was dreadfully cold as he stumbled out of the rectangular prism. A blue LED light was glowing from the box and whatever horrid substance that had been keeping Steve alive all this time was now suffocating him—or maybe it was that he was breathing pure oxygen again for the first time in a long time. For whatever reason, Steve collapsed and felt a burning acidic bile rise in his throat. He spit it out on the cold floor and coughed violently. His hands, now almost burning with a new warm sensation were still tipped with frost. Steve shook his cold, frost coated brown hair and felt the frozen locks of hair start to drip with water.
Another torrent of violent coughs raged through his lungs and he felt a steaming sense of frustration. Who was he? Where was he? The answers didn’t come to him, but he figured he should find them. He used shaky arms and legs to find the exit. As soon as he grabbed the cold handle and opened up the door, a beam of fluorescent light danced across the floor. Steve could now make out the aligned hall of rectangular boxes lit by the same dull blue glow. A sick sadness overcame him as he realized that he was the only one who survived out of dozen or so others. The floor was covered in grime and puke. The prism from which he came was a cryogenic chamber linked with stems that fueled oxygen, nutrients, and other vital necessities.
When Steve entered the hallway, brightly lit with nostalgic fluorescent lights, he felt a little bit more grounded—though he didn’t know truly what that meant. All he’d find out was how to work the computers and keep the plants growing until he could leave.
That day, 3 years later was today. Steve smiled a bit, almost laughing. He’d learned so much, and was exhilarated to be learning more. He wanted to know what real sunlight felt like. He wanted to find the cold in snow and explore the beauty of spring. So much was ahead of Steve and he couldn’t wait to get started. Three years of generating enough power to reboot the system and today he had finally reached his goal. Three days from today, he’d be grounded—for good.
Steve put on a comfortable pair of jeans and a nice cotton blue t-shirt on. On top of the comfort cloths he put on, he suited himself with a life suit and helmet. He then walked down the hallway, familiarized with the placement of everything in the building. The first left led to the greenhouse, the next turn to his bedroom. The third was to the lab, and the fourth was the exit chamber. Right next to the airlock was a picture of a girl that Steve suspected he knew before he came here. He smiled at the picture of the girl with brown hair and blue eyes and shoved it deep in the zippered pocket of his life suit. He made a slight gesture to his old home, and looked towards his new one.
Steve felt the physical rumble of the spacecraft as it fumed into a launch. Outside the large glass panel, he saw the same constellations he’d familiarized himself with all this time. Maybe the view from Earth would be different. Steve found himself overwhelmed with joy. His eyes sparkled with hope as he looked down at Earth, its many colors. The only thing that made Steve unsure was the way the land formations looked from up where he was. On a map—and there were many—he’d seen 7 distinct land masses called “Continents”. When he looked down upon Earth now, he saw many different and smaller land masses covering the surface of the planet. It looked much more different, but perhaps it had changed since the maps were made.
After launch had initiated and the spacecraft was drifting safely at a speed of 17,500 miles per hour towards its destination, Steve relaxed. Three days was a long wait for someone like Steve. He wondered what it would be like if his comrades were alive to see the shuttle in action. He remembered seeing a picture hanging above his bed with the three of them. There was a man is his early twenties who had blonde hair and dark green eyes. He had an arm on Steve’s shoulder. The girl beside him was the same girl from Steve’s photo. Remembering her, he took it out. On the back of the crumpled little photo was a handwritten note. It read, I’m looking down at you, Claire, and counting the days until I see you again. Steve knew he’d written this. He’d recognized his own handwriting even if he’d lost most of his memory.
Maybe it was Claire that Steve looked forward to meeting the most. But perhaps it was anyone. Anyone at all would satisfy Steve’s hunger for human interaction. He wanted to use his voice to talk to someone who wasn’t himself. He didn’t talk very often, but sometimes he’d mumble just enough to hear his own husky, choked, words.
Steve folded the photo back up and shoved it back in his pocket. He’d taken everything off except for his cloths underneath. His faded denim jeans, and soft cotton blue t-shirt. Looking out the window was always very serene. It made Steve feel comfort for some reason. The rule he lived by was that everything happened for a reason. It comforted him when he got sad about his memory loss. Though these words calmed him down, he never felt complete knowing he’d had a family once, and couldn’t even picture their faces.
Steve sighed heavily and forced his mind on to other topics. He pulled out the journal that he’d written in out of his backpack. As he stroked the leather cover, he smiled. If Steve ever felt down, he could count on his pen and ink to cheer him up. He’d write for hours every day and keep a log of all the astounding discoveries he’d made. Drawn on each page were silly sketches and doodles of various things. He had sketches of novas and doodles of spacecraft blueprints. Maybe the trip wouldn't be so long if he had his journal to rely on.
Steve had done the same things for the past three days. Stare out the window for a couple hours, than sketch in his journal, than eat his daily meal and go to bed. It all changed when he entered the outer atmosphere of Earth.
A huge crashing sound tore Steve from his slumber. Red lights flashed and storming sirens pounded through the thin air like a high-frequency drum. For a moment Steve was suspended in confusion, his mind adrift. Suddenly he ripped the single blanket from himself and almost shot out of bed. Falling into his chair by the front computer, he saw a field of floating debris spiraling all around him.
He immediately, without looking, felt for the control panel in a quick effort to dodge the debris. He did so to the first layer of debris, but they were spinning, and the air resistance Steve’s ship was making the debris harder to evade. A sharp panic threatened to consume Steve. He took in a deep breath and pushed it out of his lungs.
“Everything,” He panted, hearing his husky voice again. “happens,” A spinning scrap of metal merely scratched his ship’s surface. “for,” He avoided a large metal pole. “a reason.” He assured himself. It wasn’t much, but it did something.
Steve felt for the radio, and flicked the switches, trying to contact anyone. When no one answered, he felt panic rise and fall in his chest once again. He knew his radios were probably outdated though. Maybe the signal was just broken or something, he thought.
The debris started to become less and less of an issue as Steve finally neared his destination. A ping of excitement danced inside him. He watched as the speed of the spacecraft started to accelerate. He felt the powerful rocking of the ship and the pressure of it’s decent. Using the skills that Steve had acquired from the multiple resources back at the L.L.C, (Lunar Launch Center) he started to get the spacecraft ready for landing. The ship slowed down just enough to lessen the stress in Steve’s chest. As it slowed more and more, Steve watched at the shuttle dipped below the soft ocean of clouds.
Steve laughed loudly and smiled widely. Suddenly a panic arose inside him, when he saw nothing but a grass field as a landing. If Steve’s calculations were correct, he should have been landing at the National NASA space center in Houston, Texas, but here he was—and all he saw was a field.
It was too late to change course, and the landing was rough, but Steve made it. Nearly bursting with the thrill of being on Earth, Steve almost forgot about the absence of humanity for miles. Nothing added up. The land formations, the space center not being where it was supposed to, the layer of debri circling Earth's atmosphere, but Steve hardly even took notice, for he was back home again.
Steve pushed open the airlock door so harshly it could have bounded off its hinges, but it didn’t. With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Steve maneuvered off the spacecraft and felt his feet fall onto the hard ground. Another uproar of chuckles erupted from Steve as he ran for almost all of the day through the beautiful green hills. He took off his shoes and felt the soil between his toes. He pulled grass out its roots and held it to his cheeks. He even hugged a tree that was rooting at the head of the forest.
He felt like he could fly, even though being grounded made no difference. (Well to him at least.) The foolishness ended abruptly though when Steve stuck his hands in his pockets and felt the crumpled photo. Where was his family? Why weren’t they waiting for him? Steve's excitement faded as quickly as it came. He frantically looked around. He called out to anyone. He ran for miles until he came to different landscapes. But no one was there. And Steve saw nothing, but the same unchanging desolation he’d been seeing for a long time.
Steve got lost, and it was getting dark. He couldn’t find his way back to his humble little shuttle of an abode, so he camped out in the darkness of a heavily populated forest, and the darkness inside his heart was as dark as the world around him.
Steve slept for a couple hours under a small tree with low branches, but was suddenly interrupted by the company of something quite horrific. Towering over Steve was a figure. A tall skeletal figure with glowing soulless eyes and a bow clasped in its grasp. Steve, terrified, moved to make a run for it, but an arrow darted into the cloth of his t-shirt pinning him to the tree. In a desperate effort to escape the creature, he yanked his shirt harshly from the tree, ripping the collar. Before the creature could swipe a second shot, Steve was running far away.
Steve ran for miles and miles, dodging arrows and running away from over-sized mutated creatures. Finally he hid under a small crevice and waited for a while only to at last be relieved by the comfort of silence. Steve was hungry and tired and frustrated and confused. And one voice, a voice he’d never heard before, tore through his conscience. It came from the creatures and the silence of the night. It was spoken of by the crickets and rang through every gust of wind. It whispered,
“You constructed you’re attempts to save our dying existence, but not even a trace remained of your solid structure.”
Steve couldn’t understand what this meant, but he fell asleep with those words repeating in his head. Steve knew one thing now, and would continue to keep that one thing in mind as he drifted into slumber. And for the rest of the night, he slept soundly, but sorrowfully. For he was, and had been for a long time, the last trace of humanity.
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