Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“We’re talking about you, not to you,” said Olivia.

“Ohhhh,” said Iokan, amused, then went back to his personal world.

“You all need support from the group, Olivia,” I said. “Iokan’s no different.”

“Could’ve fooled me…”

“Getting back to the subject,” I said, “I think what we need, and what we’ve been missing, are group activities. I know you all enjoyed yourselves when we went to the activity centre. How would everyone feel about doing something similar in the near future?”

Pew still seemed to be in a sulk. “Like what?” he said.

“Well, that’s up to you. We could go to another centre, or use the facilities here. Or you can come up with something yourselves. It doesn’t have to be a big expedition, you could just as easily be playing a boardgame, as long as we can get everyone involved. So. Ideas?”

Silence came down for a moment. Nobody wanted to be the first. Iokan would normally have jumped right in, but today he seemed oblivious. I noticed Katie’s hand twitching. She either had an idea, or a need to speak to control her tremors. “Katie, do you have something?”

“We could engage in wargames.”

“Can you explain that a little further?”

“Wargames are designed to develop tactical, strategic and combat skills but also to foster emotional bonds between members of a unit where such bonds are critical to efficiency. I have taken part in several such scenarios. On day 156 of Adjusted Terran Year 280, I led an assault squad in a simulated attack on a section of our station at the Earth-Sun L2 point. Our squad lost only one individual and we were better able to resist the enemy during the attack on the Earth-Moon L5 station.”

She finished to silence from the group, with her hand back under control. Kwame eventually cleared his throat. “Do you mean to say that one of you died?”

“Yes. Weapons fire was moderated but still dangerous. The experience allowed the squad to feel the loss of a comrade and better withstand emotional impacts during later conflicts.”

“Yes, I understand, but… I do not think it would be wise to let anyone here die. I have also taken part in military exercises. They are dangerous but no more so than ordinary training…”

A frown struck Katie. “Yes. You are correct. My suggestion is inappropriate.”

“It’s okay, Katie, the contribution’s welcome,” I said. “Perhaps we could have something similar but a little less dangerous. Kwame? Do you have any suggestions?”

He looked morose. “No. I have no suggestions.”

“Iokan? You’ve been very quiet. Any ideas?”

Iokan turned from his contemplation and smiled at the group. “You could join with me.”

Liss looked suspicious. “What does that mean…?”

“I’ll be going with the Antecessors soon. You could join me. You would all be welcome.”

Silence and stares met his welcoming smile.

“I wish to join you,” said Katie.

“No,” I said. “That’s not an option. Iokan’s the only one who’s been invited to that meeting. I’m sorry but that isn’t going to change. Liss, do you have any ideas?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “I guess we could do something touristy. There’s gotta be some tourist stuff on Hub, right?”

“There’s a number of things,” I said. “Can you give us anything more specific?”

She shrugged again. “I haven’t seen much of Hub. I don’t know, what’s good?”

“There’s a lovely padded cell right in the middle of Hub Metro,” said Olivia.

Katie twitched. Her legs juddered and the mohib suit cut in to restrain her.

“Katie? Are you all right?” I asked.

“I would like to inspect the Agvarterheer Column,” said Katie, struggling again to control herself. “I understand it was constructed one hundred and twenty six years ago as a gift from the Khragarar species to the Interversal Union. It contains twenty five point three two kilotons of ultratensile carbofilamentary material in the central anchor column that binds the ground station to the geostationary orbital counterweight. Four elevator strands are strung alongside the central column and each has a capacity of three hundred tons of mass for each journey or four thousand standard humans in the passenger lifts. The journey takes between six hours and three days depending upon the ability of the cargo or passengers to withstand acceleration.”

She looked at me as her tremors subsided. “I am well. Thank you.”

“Okay, we could certainly take a look at the space elevator. That’s good. Anyone else?”

“There’s somewhere I want to go,” said Pew, sounding too serious for my liking.

“Go on,” I said.

“The memorial.”

“For the attack?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. What does everyone else think?”

“Is it even finished yet?” asked Liss.

Katie’s tremor started again. “The projected completion date for the full memorial is one hundred and twenty three days from the present time. It will be a garden based around the previously laid memorial stone, with holographic interfaces for each of the victims of the attack which will float across the site and permit access to information about each of them. The gathering of information is presently under way and contributions are sought from close friends and family members of the victims—”

Olivia interrupted her before she could get rid of her tremor. “Is Veofol going to be in there?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Good.”

“Do they want us to add anything to, uh, all the stuff they want?” asked Liss.

“They want to hear from family members first, but I’ll let you know when they start accepting submissions from others.”

“How many were there?” asked Pew.

Katie answered, still jittering. “Nine hundred and seventy eight fatalities in total. Three hundred and twenty three in vehicle crashes. Two hundred—”

Pew shouted back. “All right! Yeah! A lot of people died! I know that!”

His outburst worried me. “Is there something you’d like to say, Pew?”

“Nine hundred and seventy eight? I mean… is that all? ”

“It’s quite enough, don’t you think?”

“No! That’s not what I mean!”

“What do you mean, Pew?”

He struggled with it for a moment, while Katie’s head twitched to the left and she gritted her teeth. Then he found the words. “Why isn’t there a memorial for us? ”

“Because we’re not dead?” said Liss.

“I don’t mean you and me, I mean our species!”

There was silence for a moment. Kwame broke it. “He… has a point.”

“Uh, don’t they leave something on the world?” asked Liss. “I think I saw that somewhere…”

“Yes, sometimes we do,” I said, remembering the ash-strewn landscapes on my own world, the gravesites buried and untraceable.

“Where?” demanded Pew.

“Well…” I had to stop for a moment. Nothing else came to mind. “I’ll have to do some research if you want examples.”

“There’s nothing, is there?”

“I don’t know, Pew. I need to do the research.”

“Nine hundred and seventy eight people die here and they get a memorial garden with everything and billions of us die and we get nothing! That’s how much you really care, isn’t it?”

“Pew, that’s not the case…”

“How many dead on your world?” he demanded of Liss.

“I don’t… okay, two, three billion, I guess.”

“Four billion on your world, yeah?” he asked Kwame.

“Yes,” said Kwame.

“Olivia?”

“Oh, stop it,” she said. “They’re dead, what does it matter?”

“It matters because nobody cares! They don’t give a shit about billions of people dying in another universe.” He turned to Katie, whose tremors had grown worse, her hand shaking and a leg jiggling while she fought twitches that dragged her head to the side. “How many on your world?”