Beep… Beep… Beep………… Beep… Beep… Beep…
A series of low beeps echoes through my head. Is it my alarm? I don’t have classes today. I groan in annoyance. Just five more minutes, I think. I try to roll to my side but my body responds sluggishly. My muscles are incredibly stiff and my bones themselves feel heavy. God, it feels like I’ve been asleep forever, I don’t even recall any dreams. And since when did my bed get so stiff? Feels like I’m on a table. Wait, my alarm is Imperial March, what’s this beeping? I try opening my eyes but my eyelids take a few seconds to get the message. Once they feel like they’re open I still only see darkness; not pitch black but like a big dark grey blur. Why can’t I see anything? Even if the room was just dark, I could still be able to pick out shapes, but I can’t see shit. I try to sit up a little, or prop myself up on my elbows but the moment I move my back muscles start screaming. I wince in discomfort as I sink back down.
“Please, Miss, proceed with care,” a feminine voice sounds. The voice is metallic and boxy. I can’t see but I recognize the synthesized speech as one belonging to an android, some model from the MD series.
This takes me by surprise. We don’t own any androids, not ones that speak, anyway. What’s this one doing here? I try and speak but when I open my mouth all that escapes is dry air. God I need water.
“Please, Miss, proceed with care,” the android speaks again. “You are experiencing hibernation afflictions. Your vision and motor skills will return soon.” I can hear it move around to my left. There’s the sound of glass and metallic rustling on what I assume is a table, then its presence comes closer. “I’m going to give you an injection; this will rejump your hydration levels.”
I feel the syringe enter my arm and deposit its load. Nearly immediately a coolness flows through my system, relaxing my body. The stiffness gradually begins to fade and I can feel my body parts again. My throat becomes moist again. More movement to my side and a series of new beeps sounds. The android comes close again. It places little spots on several places on my body, all connected by a wire. It speaks, “I’m going to administer light electrical discharges to your major muscle groups to help your movements return.”
It presses a button and I feel little jolts across my body; not enough to hurt but enough to feel odd. My hands clench and my elbows and knees bend. My abdomen tightens and convulses. This continues for a few seconds then stops. My body is still twitching slightly but I can feel a lot better. I move my fingers as a test, then my arms. The android takes the electrodes off. The shocks also helped with blood circulation and in just several seconds the big dark blur turns into a big light blur. I use my arms to prop my torso up, succeeding this time.
Throughout all this the thought of “where am I?” still lingers. Am I in the hospital? It’s definitely a facility of sorts. Was I in some accident? The android said hibernation affliction so that means I was put under for a while. How long, though? And why? Maybe now I can talk. I still can’t see clearly but I can make out shapes now. I look at a moving one I assume to be the android. I hum a few notes to warm up my vocal cords and then clear my throat. I make a sound but it still sounds primitive. Clearing my throat again I try once more. This time actual words form. “Where… am I?” I ask.
The android looks at me. It’s silent for a few seconds. In that time I hear the whirling of its processor, evaluating my condition. “Are you aware of your surroundings?” It asks.
“No,” I weakly respond.
It thinks for another few seconds. “You may be experiencing temporary amnesic conditions, a possible side effect from prolonged hibernation. Can you tell me your name?”
My name huh? Yeah, I know that. “It’s Tara, Tara… Harding.”
“Good,” it responds. “Can you tell me anything else?”
Anything else? Well… “I’m from,” I cough a few times. I clear my throat once more. “I’m from Grande Prairie, Alberta. I’m twenty, twenty-one August third. The year is 2092…”
“Incorrect,” the android cuts me off.
I pause. Huh? What’s incorrect? “What?”
“Incorrect. The date you said was incorrect. The current year is 4134.”
I freeze. How can that be? I was visiting home just yesterday, or at least I think I was. Was I in some accident and wound up or was put in a coma? But even if I was, there’s no way I’d sleep for over two thousand years, there’s just no way. My vision clears up some more and I can make out shapes in the distance. Across from me are more humanoid forms, along with other metallic voices I didn’t notice before. They’re a little distant but it sounds like they’re talking to other people. Am I not alone here? Are there other people going through what I am now? I can theorize all I want, but the only thing that’ll satisfy my racked brain is the truth. Since androids can’t lie, I can accept what mine says as real. “Please explain,” I say calmly.
“You are currently in the stasis pod chamber in the Southern Canadian Hibernation Installation. You are part of the Minimum Viable Population Contingency Plan, to be activated in the event of external population collapse. The goal was to store diverse numbers of viable humans to use as a backup for the continuation of the species. This building received an external signal to activate, which means the outside human population has fallen below a predetermined number, or extenuating circumstances advised activation.”
I close my eyes and lower my head. “Right, right.” About halfway through the explanation the android jogged my memory. That’s right, I was sought out for this program after the country put out an emergency call for healthy individuals of diverse backgrounds. I was asked to be a part of this contingency plan and I agreed. My genetic makeup is Danish-German mix so my sturdy bones and tolerance for cold was needed. It still feels like I’m missing a few details here and there but they’ll return. “I remember now. I’m basically a brood cow. My main mission now is to repopulate.” My vision can now confirm there are other people around me, going through the same spiel. I sit back up. “How many are in this facility again?”
“There are 1985 human residents.”
“Wait, why is that an odd number?”
“The facility's internal network tells me fifteen residents did not survive the hibernation process. While a rare occurrence, it is possible that some individuals may experience severe reactions to prolonged stasis. Consider yourself lucky.”
Yeah, real lucky. I lean my head back. I think of the events that lead up to now. The nearby town threw us a big celebration, hailed us as saviors of the future. Were called MVPs, a play on the contingency plan’s name. Similar celebration took place at the other facilities from what I heard. If I recall, there were twenty in total. I wonder what became of the world. “What’s the outside like right now?”
“The current temperature is negative seventeen degrees celsius.”
Oh, it must be winter. “What’s today’s date?”
“Today’s date is July first. Happy Canada Day.”
I feel like I did a mental spit-take. “Wait, July? Why is it so cold out?”
“The global climate is experiencing a miniature ice age that has been active for four centuries now. This facility is estimated to be affected by glaciers in 96 days. This extenuating circumstance is the reason why this facility was activated.”
“Is the nearby city still populated?”
“Unknown. This facility has been out of contact with the city for many centuries now. It is likely they were driven southward to escape the encroaching cold.”
Figures. There’s probably not much left in the city in the way of resources, and the weather is only going to get worse. “What now, exactly? In the three months this facility has, how do we go about surviving?”
“The basement storage contains the essentials for survival up to two months after activation. The generators will continue working until all human life has exited; after that the electricity and air conditioning will cease. Transportation is also in the hangar and garages. From the list of potential hazards, this situation resembles scenario twenty seven, the suggested course of action is to migrate southward, as this facility cannot withstand glacial advance.”
Flee to the south, works for me. My eyes are near back to normal and can make out most all details. There’s a ginger man probably five or so years older than me directly across and a black woman about my age to his right. I see now that I’m shoved in a corner so the only other person close to me is to my left. There is another young girl, probably late teens, some kind of Asian, can’t tell which exactly yet. I look further down the corridor and see many more pods with all sorts of people of other nationalities and backgrounds, all being attended to by their own android.
I do wonder… “Our facility is threatened and that’s why we were awoken, but what about the other ones? Did they wake up too or is it just us?” I ask the android.
“Unknown,” it says. “There is a high probability the other facilities in Northern Europe and Siberia were activated to escape the encroaching glaciers as well, but it is less likely the facilities located near the equator will activate based on the climate. I do not foresee the other facilities activating unless the reason is for the population being low. I cannot connect to the external network linking the facilities so the data is incomplete.”
So as far as we can guess we’re the only ones awake so far. But I can see the other northernmost facilities activating. Too bad there’s no way to reach them right now. I sit up straight and stretch my arms over my head, also getting my back too. I hear several pops as my vertebrae realign. Man, so this is what two thousand years of doing nothing does to you. I glance at the android now that I can properly see it to see it is indeed from the MD line; MD Delta to be exact. Its overall likeness is humanoid with a synthetic face that is supposed to resemble the convection of emotions. This model, at least, doesn’t have the AI capacity to simulate emotions, rather as a medical unit, its main focus was logic and medical knowledge.
“What have you been doing this whole time, Delta? You weren’t active, were you?”
Delta places an electrode on my bicep, connected to a monitor. “Negative. I was placed in hibernation mode, set to operate once the facility received the signal to reactivate. The last human I spoke to was the facility’s overseer in his final days, fifty three years after stasis was initiated. After he passed, all MD units were put in hibernation.” It’s silent for a few moments while it checks the monitor. “Your respiration and circulation are at acceptable levels, aside from lack of muscle use, you should not experience any complications. I want you to try to put some weight on your legs.”
I nod and shift my legs over the edge of the platform. They feel pretty normal, albeit a tad stiff. Still gripping onto the side, I place both feet on the floor. I do a couple test movements of my joints then put weight down. My legs buckle slightly but hold their own; just have to get used to standing again. It takes some moments but I feel the strength returning gradually. Not long and I can stand on my own, though walking is still tough.
“Good. It should not be long before you are completely recovered.” Delta reaches behind the monitor stand and grabs a pair of crutches. “In the meantime, please use these for stabilization.”
I take the crutches and support myself. It’s wobbly at first but I’m able to move around. After some weight-bearing adjustments I try my first steps. My arms do a good job of supporting myself on the crutches, it’s my legs that have issues with stability; they’re just not strong enough yet. I give it more time just doing light stretches and periodically trying again and soon I can move around at least on my crutches. I decide to take a walk around.
I slowly make my way down the chamber hall on my crutches, looking around at my surroundings. The people I see coming out of hibernation are about as diverse you could get; the project leaders must have taken people from all over Canada to get this much diversity. That was the plan, I guess, to have as much genetic diversity as possible. I look around and they all look back. Whether they can see me I don’t know, as they probably have hibernation afflictions too. A black boy, probably late teens, waves to me as I pass by, at least he can see well.
The end of the corridor comes to a stop at a large set of metal doors. There’s no censor at the top otherwise they’d have opened automatically. Then again, I don’t really expect that easy of entry or exit to and from the potential world-saving genetic stockpile. There is, however, a keypad and scanner to the right of the doors, the more secure option to only let authorized personnel in or out. I suddenly remember the last possession they gave me before I went under; I fish around in my pocket and pull out a lanyard with an ID clipped on. I hobble to the scanner, present my ID to the small screen and it turns a green color, opening the doors. On the other side is a long, dark hallway that comes to life once the doors open. I set off down the hall.
I don’t really know where I’m going. Delta told me to get exercise so I guess that’s what I’ll do. From what I remember of this place before I went under, the bulk is within the Canadian Rockies mountainside near Mt. Harris with the main entrance and observation decks above the surface facing eastward. I suppose I can head on up to the front deck and get a view of the area.
I continue walking and come across more fellow MVPs, coming from the several other stasis rooms, all using crutches too. One in particular approaches me, a twenty something girl of some kind of middle eastern background. “Hey,” she says to me, she doesn’t have much of an accent, if any, probably meaning she grew up in the west. “Where you headed?”
“Hello,” I greet back, “I was just headed up to the front observation deck. Figured I’d get a look around.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Mind if I tag along?” she asks.
“No not at all.” Well, looks like I already made a friend in this new world.
She holds out her right hand for a handshake. “I’m Salma, by the way.”
I reach out to reciprocate the handshake, smiling. “Tara. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” We resume walking towards the front, chatting as we go. “So where were you from? Around here?”
“Grande Prairie outskirts, born and raised. I’m not too terribly far from home.”
“Oh, I’m from over in Ontario, actually. Thunder Bay. Grew up coastal my whole life rather than on the prairie. Almost my whole family had been fishermen for a couple generations. I’m no stranger to fish but it’s not what I wanted to do with my life. Before I was summoned here I worked at a cozy little library, very peaceful. What about you? What did you do?” she asks me.
“I was a university student, studying agricultural science. I’d been a rancher my whole life, same as the rest of my family, it’s all I know. But I wanted to improve the ranch’s conditions so I went for an education. Then in my junior year I was summoned here.”
“That’s noble of you,” Salma comments.
“Oh I don’t know about that,” I chuckle. We walk a tad more in silence, kinda already made the most of our introductions. What’s left but to talk about the weather? “So, did your Delta unit tell you about what’s going on outside?”
Her face adopts a more concerned look. “Yeah, it did. The glaciers are coming for us. We have to move soon. The only question is where.”
“Well, we have about three months before we have to leave. I’m sure there are those of us here who can figure out maps and planning where to settle next. Preferably somewhere warm.”
“Really. I’m no stranger to the cold, but I think an ice age is a little much.”
“Agreed.” We continue hobbling and talking for a while. We pass more rooms most likely designed for living once facility activation: many dorms, mess hall, general recreation, fitness center, bathrooms, etc. It’s clear the people who made this place expected us to live here for some time before heading back out into the world. Further ahead is a large atrium that also serves as the facility’s main entrance. The room’s high ceiling imposed importance The eastern wall is lined with large windows, which are supposed to display the natural beauty of the mountainscape, but right now are still in lockdown mode. A retractable thick metal layer covers either side of the glass to prevent any breakage from a variety of external or internal forces. A Simple command should retract the covers but for some reason they’re still active, possibly malfunctioning.
By this point there’s a few dozen other people here besides us, all conversing various things. Maintenance, medical, and cleaning androids also pepper the room. There’s a small group of men consisting of a Hispanic, a white, and an Asian all talking to a maintenance android about something related to the window covers. I can hear the conversation more clearly when we walk by. “Just let me look at the command list. I could probably find where the open command got lost in,” the Hispanic says.
The white guy adds, “And if it’s not a command issue, I used to be an electrician. If it’s something to do with power routing, I can fix it.”
The Asian man also adds, “Please, just let me run a diagnostic on the system. I counted three separate issues just on my way up here. My gut tells me there’s more we just can’t see right now.”
“I’m sorry, but you do not have proper administrative access. Only authorized personnel can access this facility’s critical systems.” The android is adamant in its speech. It’s not entirely its fault, the way it was programmed leaves no room for error.
“Fine then,” the Hispanic guy says again, clearly frustrated. “Who can we talk to to get the right clearance?”
“One would have to speak with either this facility’s Overseer or the Alpha level Administrative Android for the proper access.”
“There is no Overseer anymore,” the Asian guy says curtly, “he’s been dead for millennia.”
“If that is the case, then speaking with the Alpha level Administrative Android is the only way to achieve that.”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Where can we find this Alpha?”
“The Alpha level Administrative Android is currently located in the Overseer’s observation room.”
The trio storm off, or at least attempt to while using crutches. As they pass us I hear the Hispanic guy mutter something to the effect of “damn droid-order bureaucracy.”
“Hopefully they’re able to get access,” I comment to Salma. “I’m anxious to see the sun again.”
“Same here,” she answers. Looking around I can tell some of the other inmates are getting a little antsy, then again, I am too. I haven’t seen the sun for the better part of two millennia and I miss the warmth it brings with it. Even though to my perspective I had just seen the sun yesterday. That’s what stasis will do to you. It messes up your perception of passing time. What feels like yesterday to me was in reality over two thousand years ago
I haven’t really thought about it yet, but everyone I knew from back then is gone. My family, my friends, everyone I cared about has long since died. Right now I just think about it with a Huh attitude, but I’m sure once the initial shock of coming out of stasis wares off, I’ll go into full crisis mode.
The room continues to fill with other residents. Eventually the trio of men return and immediately get to work, guess they received their authorization. Both the Asian and Hispanic men wave their right index finger straight left to right signaling their personal dash. Light blue solid-light displays appear in front of them and they begin typing away. “Okay, connecting… transferring authorization code… and I’m in. Running diagnostic tool now,” the Asian man says to the Hispanic man. “We’ll soon figure out what’s wrong here, Hector.”
“I’m in too, Shang,” Hector replies. “Checking command list now. Steven,” he shouts over to I assume the white man, “go to the main console over by the east wall and check for any abnormalities. Be ready on standby.”
“Roger,” Steven acknowledges then walks over to the console, removing the panel underneath.
Some few moments pass before Shang speaks up. “Ah ha, got it. There’s an exterior wire controlling the shutters that got dislodged. The console can’t connect to the shutters.”
“Can confirm,” Hector agrees. “The open command was sent but never received.”
“There is a manual override that can be used, however. Steven, you got anything that looks like that over there?”
“Tripping now,” Steven says while connecting a breaker underneath the console. He looks back up and a brand new red lever emerges from the console’s inner-workings. He grabs hold and pulls it downward. This triggers a loud mechanized track and the plated shutters begin to retract upwards. The shutters fully recede to reveal the mountainscape. Tall snowy peaks line the skies as far as our vision reaches, the snow continues down the slopes and into the crevices and valleys. The sky is patched with clouds, not fully covered, allowing some sunlight to permeate the area. In the valley below a small town is barely visible underneath the deep snow. Everyone present gathers by the windows to awe at the scene.
Being familiar with the way the sun works in respect to the seasons, I can tell the sun is indeed in the summer position for the northern hemisphere. Even though we’re in the mountains, the summers around here don’t hold this much snow. Man, it really is an eternal winter now, so to speak. Not that I really doubted Delta, androids of its model can’t lie, but I guess there was some part of me that just needed to see it for myself; if I didn’t see the outside world, I could believe whatever I wanted to believe. Whatever.
Selma and I move away from the windows to give others the chance to see the mountainscape for themselves. We continue chatting to each other, I generally look around among the other people, just seeing all there is to see. Just like from the halls before, there’s all kinds of people from different backgrounds.
I hear a chime sound, which indicates I’m receiving a call or a message over my Dash. I swipe my finger and the solid-light display materializes. Out of the corner of my eye I see many other people doing the same thing indicating this was a mass message for all us residents. The mail icon shows I have a new audio message so I tap it. Immediately a slightly mechanical voice starts talking. “Greetings Human Minimum Viable Population Program participant, this is your Administrator speaking. You are receiving this call to come to the amphitheater at two pm this afternoon for your briefing and new mission statement. Your presence is required as this is a mandatory event. Have a good day,” and with that the voice stops. At two, huh? The corner of my Dash shows the current time being close to twelve thirty.
I hadn’t even thought about it but I haven’t had anything to eat for two thousand years, and now I’m kinda hungry. I wonder if any of the cafeterias are open yet? “Well, sounds like we have a meeting to attend,” Salma says.
“I guess,” I respond. “Though, I’m suddenly feeling really hungry. What about you?”
She thinks for a moment, like she also hadn’t considered it until now. “Yeah, I could eat. Is anything open yet, though?”
“I was wondering the same thing. We have an hour and a half until the meeting, shall we see if we can grab a bite to eat along the way?”
“Sounds like a plan.” We leave the observation deck; at this point our legs have adjusted to working again so the crutches we were using are no longer required. On our way to the cafeteria we swing back to our respective stasis chambers and drop them off with our Delta units. We meet back up at Cafeteria B, the closest one to the amphitheater, only to see none of the meal lines open yet. It is rather early for food, I guess. The facility only just reactivated about an hour ago. Hopefully they’ll be up in time for dinner. With nothing else to do we just go on ahead into the amphitheater. There’s a few dozen other people here now, probably also didn’t have anything better to do than just wait here. Feeling adventurous, Salma and I walk around to other people and groups, conversing to get their takes on everything but also to just pass the time.
Before we know it an hour has passed and more people are filing in to take their seats. Thinking it’s a good time we also take our seats. After some more time the Alpha comes onto the stage to prepare its speech. The Alpha is an impressive android. Its appearance was designed to mimic a human to a T, and its AI is quite advanced, capable of generating emotions as well as abstract thought. If it wasn’t for the voice synthesizer clearly producing a slight mechanical tone, one could easily mistake it for an actual person. Several projections of the Alpha come to life around the amphitheater for the residents not near the front to still see the speaker clearly. Some more time passes and the seats are finally filled with all the human residents. The briefing begins.
“Welcome, everyone, to the future.” The Alpha begins its speech. Kinda a cheesy line, but whatever. “As I’m sure your medical units have informed you, it is now more than two millennia passed the year you once knew. Your new lives begin here and now.” On the projections, instead of the Alpha, comes up some slides showing the globe.
“This facility is now active, what does this mean? It means that either the outside human population has declined to a dangerous amount, or that some outside force is posed to threaten the facility or its residents.” The Alpha pauses for a moment. “I’ll be frank, we don’t have the population assessment. A few centuries after stasis was initiated, the surrounding mountainscape experienced seismic activity which resulted in the destruction of our communications relay. We don’t have any connection to the global network or the other facilities. It’s only thanks to our local surveillance system that we were able to detect the approaching glaciers, and it’s that reason that the facility was reactivated. We can only assume that the outside population is lower than when we went dark, but to the extent we do not know.”
The slide changes to something resembling a family tree. “What now, though? The directive that was given to us does not change. The mission statement is still to go out and repopulate Though you might want to move elsewhere; preferably somewhere not covered in ice and snow.” It pauses for another moment. “Some of you might be wondering about what kind of relations are permitted. This caused a rift with some of the other Administrators, myself included. In all honesty, I don’t really care if one wishes to engage in same sex relations, as long as procreation is still the top priority. As long as you’re still producing offspring, you can be with whoever you wish. Of course, once you leave this facility, we have no further jurisdiction or influence over you, that’s just my own two cents on the subject.”
The slide changes to a diagram of the facility. “Back to the now. As I said, this facility has experienced some hardships in the past couple millennia. The issue with the window shutters on the observation deck was a byproduct of that. We’re still assessing all things that need to be repaired and may ask those with knowledge and experience to help out. In the meantime, I ask for your patience. Please allow a few hours for the cafeterias to restock with meals. You may or may not have heard by now that this facility only has enough resources to last a couple months, this is true. I hope we are moved out before that happens.”
The slide changes to a map of North America. “The suggested course of action is to migrate southward until a desired temperature and climate is reached.” On the map are outlined areas of light and dark green, white, and yellow. The greens are labeled forest, light for deciduous and dark for coniferous, the white is glacial and tundra, and yellow is plains. Two black stars are labeled on the map indicating locations of MVP facilities; ours in southwestern Alberta, and the second one near the southern shores of Lake Michigan in the midwest US. The white boundary cuts through southern Canada, about middle Alberta, from coast to coast. The dark green continues onward from the white covering the remainder of Canada and a good portion of the northern US. The light green continues southward from there on covering the entire eastern end of the continent down to the Gulf of Mexico. The southwest US and northern Mexico is covered yellow, areas that were once desert are now plains and prairie. “As you can see from this map, the climate of North America has shifted to a more temperate one. This is not one hundred percent accurate but is an estimate. Once satellite communications are back online we’ll know for certain what has become of the climate. For now, treat this depiction as true. I advise you wait until we get the updated map before plotting your course.”
The slide changes to just a white screen with “Humanity’s Future Begins Now” in big bold text. “I’m sure you all have questions, and I promise they will get answered. For the moment, be courteous to your caretakers, to your neighbors, and most importantly to yourselves. Things will get better from here on out.” A light beep chimes and a small compartment pops open from the seatbacks in front of us. Inside is a document packet titled the same as the final slide. “From these documents you should all find useful information regarding your roles in the now and in the future, along with advice, scenario problem solving, and more. A digital version has also been sent to your Dashes.” It pauses just a second. “That’s all for now, so until next time, please familiarize yourself with the materials given to you. Dismissed.” The Alpha gives a salute and excuses itself from the stage.
We’re all left in our seats pretty well overwhelmed. Here we are, given this monumental task of saving the species from extinction, and at this moment all I can think of is how cold my feet are getting. I know I signed up for this, but, I don’t know, it’s just so big of a task. For all I know my genes aren’t that great or the prolonged stasis I endured left me infertile. I also realize this is just my brain chugging out worst case scenarios due to my increased anxiety, but that doesn’t stop me from panicking.
I excuse myself. Others are leaving too, Salma said she’s going to remain here for a while to decompress and maybe read the booklet. I decide to go back to the observation deck, get another look at what awaits me when we finally leave this place. The skies have clouded over more to the point where there’s no sunlight breaking through. Around this latitude most weather comes from the west, which is not visible from this vantage point, so for all I know there’s a storm brewing. The thick snow and ice everywhere are a constant reminder that we’re not long for this area, that we have to move if we want to survive, but it’s also a sign that the outside world is not a nice place anymore. It’s unknown what the population is but it can’t be high. With the potential collapse of civilization there’s no telling what’s waiting for us out there; it’s our duty to fix that for future generations.
And then there’s the problem with me. I know what has to be done, it’s been ingrained into my head for the past couple thousand years. The only issue is if that’s what I want anymore. I already know the answer, that I’ll accept my responsibility and do my duty, but it’s the steps up to that point that’s the hardest part. I have to convince myself that it’s what I have to do, or even it’s what I want. In reality, though, what else am I going to do? The species is on the brink of collapse and the world itself is being reclaimed from us. There’s less a human can do nowadays than in most of our history. At least then we had the options to build up population, wage war, invent new technologies, or whatever else we wanted. Now, it’s just repopulate. Try to keep the species alive. And you know, it’s not that bad of an option, really. At least it’ll be fun along the way. I shake my head and smack both my cheeks at the same time to bring me back to reality. “Alright then. Bring on the world.”