“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

The figure nodded, “Few thousand years.”

An old man with a curved spine and an old piece of dried hardwood for a cane chuckled, “A few thousand years and we still can’t figure out how to make sweet beer.”

The figure shook, “Humans… somehow produce the strangest forms of entertainment.”

“Yes? Like what?”

The shadowy figure rumbled, “You enjoy killing each other more than anything else.”

The old man flashed a smiled, “Not as much anymore.”

The figure frowned in deep thought, “I still remember… you fresh out of school… researching to cure cardiovascular diseases. They called you the ‘Crazy Fritz,’ didn’t they?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

A small laugh escaped the man’s mouth, “Pfft, who knew it would lead me down this path.”

“Our time is running out.”

The man’s mouth twisted into a sad smile as he looked up into a black pocket in the sky, “It’s incredible that you’ve been able to even talk to me.”

The figure smiled, Thanks.

Earth shook as the word reverberated throughout the crust of the planet. The old man walked out onto the balcony overlooking what was the Pacific Ocean, now a dry wasteland from the receding seas. Large metal sheets of electronics, biological organisms, and prototype experiments littered the surface of the shattered stone.

The old man tapped a black band on his wrist and a screen was projected in front of his face. He gazed into the red fiery eyes of the young man in the photo, “Soon, nobody will have to die like you.”

Underneath the photo was the words “Patrik Fritz. Cardiologist 2031-5673 !ERROR!-Current. Experimental Fail@$%&.”

The old man gripped his hand into a fist, “I’ll finish what we started! I’ll fulfil our legacy!”