I am Bradley Griffiths. The year is 0002 F.M. Two years after the end of my world. And I am alone. On Planet Una Terra.
The man looked at the inscription closely, checking to see if he’d made any mistakes. He chuckled, realising that he had inscribed the message on stone. It wouldn’t really matter if he had found any errors.
Wincing, he stood up and dusted his pants. He picked up his tool kit and walked back to the Habitat’s inactive air-lock. Ducking under the leafy overhanging across the air-lock entrance, he dumped his tool-kit on the floor. The tool-kit bounced up a bit and settled down on the soft floor of the Habitat.
The man was tinkering with something small on a workbench, hunching over whatever it was he was trying to fix.
He pressed a small red button on the radio-like device, which sent a signal to the massive satellite dish mounted outside in a clearing a few hundred yards away from the Habitat. The dish rotated slowly, pointing towards another quadrant of the sky. The receiver continuously scanned for any kind of electronic signals. The Habitat’s AI would automatically parse the resultant chatter, separating out the ambient noise of the microwave radiation and maybe, just, maybe a communication signals from another human.
He had been sending out messages continuously in the hope that someone somewhere might receive this proof of a sentient being capable of communication.
As each member of his team inexorably gave in to the pressure of the immense loneliness which they felt, Bradley watched as they wasted away, refusing to eat, to drink and in the end, refusing to even clean their bodies as they soiled themselves in their beds.
In their last few weeks, they hadn’t let Bradley administer medical aid to them, denying his requests to at least wash their soiled bodies. Once they died, he refused to bury them in the pitiful state they had been in when they passed away. He couldn’t help them in any way when they were alive. He could damn well make sure that at least in death, they got the respect they deserved.
Washing their bodies methodically, he realized that tears were flowing down his face. As he thought about it, he understood that they really were gone. All of them. He was alone on this God-forsaken planet. Then, the terrible realization that he was now alone as now human ever was crashed down upon him. He was the last person. Ever. Once he died, the human race would end. There would be nothing to show that a flourishing civilization that had once tamed an entire planet had even existed. He was the last bastion, the very last outpost of the flame that was human civilization.
He buried his three friends in a glade filled with almost entirely with tiny, blue bulbs. As he bent down closer to see what they were, he smiled. They were flowers, shaped like hearts. The grass rose up to his knees. It was soft, springing back into its original position as he carried each of his friends to their final resting place. He was struck by how light they were in his arms. As he lay down sweating against a tree, he looked around the clearing. All that remained of his friends were three non-descript mounds in the middle of the clearing. He saw the little stream that flowed off into the forest in one corner, right near Leah’s grave. She would’ve liked that. Already, he could imagine blue heart-shaped flowers growing across his friends’ resting places.
As he walked back to the Habitat, he felt a modicum of peace settle in. He could’ve hardly found a more beautiful resting place for his friends.
He would not give in. There was still hope.
I am Bradley Griffiths. The year is 0002 F.M. Two years after the end of my world. And I am alone. On Planet Una Terra.
Intervallica 