Read Online The Hauntings of Playing God (The Great De-Evolution) by Chris Dietzel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chris Dietzel
Tags: Literary, Science-Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Literary Fiction, post apocalyptic, Dystopian, Metaphysical & Visionary
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their business, and go to sleep? Just so they can say they got through another miserable day?
The conclusion seems obvious. One should perish so that the rest can be healthy. That’s how animals in the wild ensure the highest number of their offspring end up living. It’s the foundation of the predator/prey relationship.
She knows what she has to do, and yet she still has nine decades of worries keeping her stuck in inaction. What would her parents think of what she is going to do? What would Elaine say? What would God think? If the history of the world somehow continued after there was no one around to document it, would she be remembered as a savior to the remaining few, or as the world’s last murderer?
She is standing over Justin’s bed. The very last Block of the night. Justin, who has never hurt anyone, neither physically nor emotionally. Justin, who from the first day of his existence to his last, has been quiet and motionless. Justin, who Elaine once said was a mountain climber, the final person ever to reach the summit of Mount Everest. He would have stayed on top of the mountain and looked down at the rest of the world for the remainder of his life if he could have. If the weather had allowed it. When you are on top of that mountain, looking out at the expanse of the world, the blur of black earth and white snow mixing everywhere, only the cold and the lack of oxygen can force you away.
“The only reason he had come back down,” Elaine had said, “was that it was simply too cold to live up there. So he surrendered to his own limits and returned to join the rest of humanity in their final days. And now, here he is, with us.”
Morgan takes the tube leading from Justin’s nutrient bag between her index finger and her thumb. Without another thought, she pulls and the tube disconnects from the nutrient bag. Drops of a gelatinous goo drip onto the ground next to Justin’s cot. It has no smell. Or maybe it does and she simply can’t smell it anymore.
His arms, strong enough to pull him up the sides of mountains, do not push her away. The vice-like grip of his fingers, carved from clinging to rocks all of his life, does not encircle her wrist and beg her to stop what she is doing.
Another drip of the nutrient bag hits the floor. She closes her eyes.
His bag was almost empty anyway. There won’t be much to clean up the following day.
Justin is weak as it is, as are all the bodies around her. Without food and water, he won’t last more than a few hours.
It’s the only way, she tries to convince herself.
The thought is meant to comfort her. The only way she can ensure the health of everyone else, including herself, is if she has fewer people to care for. She simply has too many people to clean and feed and reposition.
There is no reconciling what she has done, though. She keeps expecting Justin to beg for his life, expects him to plead for someone else to die in his place. He could tell her that if this is about survival of the fittest, there are many Blocks who aren’t as healthy as he is. He could say that the final person to conquer Mount Everest certainly deserves a better ending than being left for dead in front of all of his neighbors. He says none of this, though. He says nothing at all.
Slowly, she makes her way back to her desk, flips each light switch.
It’s the only way, she tells herself.
It’s the only way.
The factory goes dark for the evening.
It’s the only way.
Outside, a bird chirps, oblivious to the suffering within the walls it craps on each day.
It’s the only way .
12
Justin is dead when she checks on him the next day. His lips are grey, his fingers slightly curled. The glossy shine to his skin, that everyone has in the humid Miami weather, is gone. In death, his skin resembles clay more than it does the flesh that used to be there.
His body is removed the same way Elaine’s was: with the forklift. The machine picks up the whole
The conclusion seems obvious. One should perish so that the rest can be healthy. That’s how animals in the wild ensure the highest number of their offspring end up living. It’s the foundation of the predator/prey relationship.
She knows what she has to do, and yet she still has nine decades of worries keeping her stuck in inaction. What would her parents think of what she is going to do? What would Elaine say? What would God think? If the history of the world somehow continued after there was no one around to document it, would she be remembered as a savior to the remaining few, or as the world’s last murderer?
She is standing over Justin’s bed. The very last Block of the night. Justin, who has never hurt anyone, neither physically nor emotionally. Justin, who from the first day of his existence to his last, has been quiet and motionless. Justin, who Elaine once said was a mountain climber, the final person ever to reach the summit of Mount Everest. He would have stayed on top of the mountain and looked down at the rest of the world for the remainder of his life if he could have. If the weather had allowed it. When you are on top of that mountain, looking out at the expanse of the world, the blur of black earth and white snow mixing everywhere, only the cold and the lack of oxygen can force you away.
“The only reason he had come back down,” Elaine had said, “was that it was simply too cold to live up there. So he surrendered to his own limits and returned to join the rest of humanity in their final days. And now, here he is, with us.”
Morgan takes the tube leading from Justin’s nutrient bag between her index finger and her thumb. Without another thought, she pulls and the tube disconnects from the nutrient bag. Drops of a gelatinous goo drip onto the ground next to Justin’s cot. It has no smell. Or maybe it does and she simply can’t smell it anymore.
His arms, strong enough to pull him up the sides of mountains, do not push her away. The vice-like grip of his fingers, carved from clinging to rocks all of his life, does not encircle her wrist and beg her to stop what she is doing.
Another drip of the nutrient bag hits the floor. She closes her eyes.
His bag was almost empty anyway. There won’t be much to clean up the following day.
Justin is weak as it is, as are all the bodies around her. Without food and water, he won’t last more than a few hours.
It’s the only way, she tries to convince herself.
The thought is meant to comfort her. The only way she can ensure the health of everyone else, including herself, is if she has fewer people to care for. She simply has too many people to clean and feed and reposition.
There is no reconciling what she has done, though. She keeps expecting Justin to beg for his life, expects him to plead for someone else to die in his place. He could tell her that if this is about survival of the fittest, there are many Blocks who aren’t as healthy as he is. He could say that the final person to conquer Mount Everest certainly deserves a better ending than being left for dead in front of all of his neighbors. He says none of this, though. He says nothing at all.
Slowly, she makes her way back to her desk, flips each light switch.
It’s the only way, she tells herself.
It’s the only way.
The factory goes dark for the evening.
It’s the only way.
Outside, a bird chirps, oblivious to the suffering within the walls it craps on each day.
It’s the only way .
12
Justin is dead when she checks on him the next day. His lips are grey, his fingers slightly curled. The glossy shine to his skin, that everyone has in the humid Miami weather, is gone. In death, his skin resembles clay more than it does the flesh that used to be there.
His body is removed the same way Elaine’s was: with the forklift. The machine picks up the whole
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