David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

He struggled to open his eyes into narrow slits and spoke in a labored murmur, “I love you.”

“I know you do. I know. But I need you to stand, James. Don’t give up. Hold on to me as best you can. We have to follow them.”

James slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily against Thel for support as he did so. He’d entered the realm of the dying now. He was becoming aware that he could no longer function without the aid of one of his companions. He could not stand alone, walk alone, go to the bathroom alone, or eat alone. Soon he would be unable to speak, unable to open his eyes, and eventually, he would no longer be able to draw breath. This realization wasn’t met with panic, but rather, was accompanied by a pervasive calmness that stretched its black cloak around him as it softly rocked him toward a lasting sleep.

Thel could sense this, and she clenched her teeth in determination to beat back the alluring rest James desired as she ignited her magnetic field and carried James with her in the direction that the others had flown.

Meanwhile, several hundred meters away, Djanet was stalking her prey. She hovered above the three attackers as they scrambled as fast as they could over the uneven terrain. They were trapped and knew it, but they ran anyway, having no other option.

This was exactly the sort of moment that defined Djanet’s life. As she glided overhead, she thought of her mother, remembering how she told her to put dreams of a life working for the Governing Council on other planets out of her head. “ How would you stand out?” her mother asked. Djanet, her mother insisted, could be no smarter than anyone else and those positions would always go to those centenarians already established. “ Why set yourself up for failure when a lifetime of leisure was only as far away as a click in your mind’s eye ?”

But Djanet was rebellious, stubborn, and determined. Her life had to have a higher purpose. She couldn’t spend her life only existing. Why live if not to pursue a dream?

And now Djanet was taking that determination and purpose and focusing it on a new goal. Everything had been taken away from her, but it wasn’t over yet. If James needed a doctor, by God he was going to get one, and these people who were scurrying away from her as quickly as possible were going to help her—like it or not.

Djanet was quickly joined on either side by Rich and Old-timer. Old-timer signaled to her to move in and block the progress of the three fleeing Purists. She nodded and swooped down, landing with enough force to be intimidating and sending small globes of sludge splattering into the air.

She was only meters in front of the ragged, battle-scarred soldiers. Their faces were blackened by the sooty material in the air and on the ground, and their skin was streaked with blood and sweat. Each wore cloth over their faces to help them breathe the putrid air. There were two males and one female, all wearing the same dark gray uniform with a rifle strapped over one shoulder. One of the men pointed his rifle at Djanet in a defensive posture, while the other two combatants took similar positions against Rich and Old-timer behind them. The six people locked into a tableau together, as painful seconds ticked by.

Old-timer felt a responsibility in the situation to be the first one to lower his guard for a moment to communicate with the Purists. It only seemed right. If one of them had to die, it should be the one who had already had the longest life. Yet his hands shook. The nans would have released a mild dose of dopamine in this situation to keep his nerves from getting the best of him. It had been more than sixty years since he had experienced such nervous feelings. He knew he could die. The implacable void of death surrounded him, and ice seemed to form in his chest. He couldn’t imagine a worse feeling.

Carefully, he disengaged the protective cocoon of his magnetic field. He did, however, keep a large magnetic shield hovering just in front of him so that he would have a chance of blocking one of the projectiles the antiquated weapons of the Purists were ready to fire.

“We aren’t here to harm you! We’re on your side!” Old-timer found himself stammering. His lips were dry and shaking—his voice nearly failed him. His voice had never before failed him.

The man and the woman who crouched before him, their weapons trained on their adversaries, gave each other careful, quizzical glances.

Old-timer waited for a few moments for a response, but the tableau continued. “Djanet, they must not speak English! Perhaps they speak one of the old languages? Spanish?”

“I haven’t practiced any Spanish since I was a little girl, Old-timer, but I can try,” Djanet replied. “ Somos sus amigos. Nosotros no tenemos malas intenciones! ”

The Purists shared more quizzical glances. A few moments passed before the male facing Djanet replied, “I don’t know what the hell that freak just said, but we’re not as backward as you cyborgs think! We know how to speak English!”

The tableau continued a moment longer before Old-timer finally managed to utter, “You do?”

“No! I’m lying to you! I don’t speak a damn word of English! I memorized this phonetically just to piss you off at the right moment!” the Purist shouted back at him.

“Gernot! Watch your mouth!” the woman called back to her companion.

“Why should I?” Gernot responded. “You think these freaks are telling us the truth? If I’m gonna die right now, I’m sure as hell going to tell these pieces of crap where to go before I do!”

“You’re not going to die!” Old-timer reassured. “We’re here for help! The A.I. has wiped out everyone who was connected to the Internet other than me and my companions! We’ve come here looking for other survivors!”

“It…can’t be,” whispered the man to the woman crouched next to him.

“We can’t trust them!” Gernot called back to his companions. “It’s all bull!”

At that moment, Rich finally disengaged his magnetic field. Like Djanet and Old-timer, he held a shield in front of him to protect himself, but his voice was still filled with trepidation as he spoke, his anxiety almost paralyzing. “So, uh…how’s it going? Are we friends yet?”

Old-timer locked an intense glare on Rich and shook his head.

“Oh,” Rich replied before shrinking back and reigniting his full cocoon.

“Why should we believe you?” asked the man who was crouched and facing Old-timer.

Old-timer took a moment to find a line of reasoning. He nearly shrugged his shoulders as he attempted to capture the right words.

Djanet jumped in before he could speak. “If we wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

“Or you might keep us alive so that we could show you if there are any other survivors!” Gernot shot back. “We’re not idiots! No matter what you calculator-heads might think!”

Djanet furrowed her brow and looked across to Old-timer, who mouthed the word “ calculator-head” to her quizzically.

She shook her head and held out her hands, exasperated.

“I think we should trust them,” the woman asserted to the male next to her, who seemed to be in command of the small triad.

“Are you sure, Alejandra?”

Old-timer noted that her words carried enormous weight with their leader for some reason.

“Don’t do it, Lieutenant!” Gernot shouted.

“If you’re wrong—” the lieutenant began.

“I’m not wrong. I sense enormous good in them—especially in him,” she said, locking eyes with Old-timer.

Her eyes were unlike any Old-timer had ever seen. They carried something within them that made Old-timer see beyond the crystal blueness and into something altogether more beautiful. He didn’t know how to respond.