The Hauntings of Playing God (The Great De-Evolution) by Chris Dietzel 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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compassion.
Occasionally, she offers them prayers. But doing so immediately makes her feel guilty because she isn’t sure what she believes and what she doesn’t. She has no idea what lies in store for her or anyone else. How, then, is she supposed to help make them feel like they are getting ready to pass into the next world? She doesn’t even know what she thinks will happen when she dies, so telling them they will soon be reunited with loved ones leaves her feeling like an imposter. She finds herself apologizing for the prayers she offers, as if no prayer at all is better than one that has skepticism behind it.
She is sure Mother Teresa never apologized for one of her blessings. No matter what Mother Teresa believed, her words meant more than anything Morgan can say simply because there was conviction behind them.
The days she is on a remote moon base, she can create a world without being bothered by history or by real-life humanitarians. Sometimes, her spaceship is quarantined from the main outpost. Other times, she is the only survivor after an asteroid has exploded into the mother ship.
Just because the Great De-evolution ended life on her own planet doesn’t mean life has to stop all together. Other planets have been colonized. Astronauts are beginning to explore past the Milky Way. Sure, she and the injured astronauts she cares for will eventually meet their end, either after running out of oxygen, getting too close to the sun, or some other routine ending for unlucky space explorers, but at least man has established bases on Mars, on the moon, and will continue to spread out amongst the stars. Mankind will reach out and live on planets that were inconceivable during Morgan’s childhood.
But she looks at her laptop, unused since Daniel’s death, and knows no one else is out there. Not on the moon, not on Mars. Especially not on Earth. Instead of flourishing, mankind is on the verge of extinction. There is nothing to explore and no one to explore it.
It is painful each time she realizes there is no other reality for her than the one she is in. She is old. She is caring for the last Blocks. That is all there is. As she makes her way through her rounds, refilling each Block’s nutrient bag, tears drip onto her shirt and then onto the floor. This is not acknowledged. Instead, she goes on caring for each person as if she isn’t crying at all.
Maybe life starts the first time you play make-believe and ends the moment you admit you can no longer imagine something better for yourself than what you have.
18
It’s still well past midnight by the time she finishes caring for the Blocks in quadrant 4. There is one bed missing from quadrant 2, four from quadrant 3, and two from quadrant 4, but she has not made up many minutes. Any time gained from having one less Block to care for is lost, the very next day, in the time it takes to power up the forklift, drive it into place, and carry everything to the fires. It’s a losing battle.
Her legs feel like they have finished a marathon. Her hands feel like they have broken stone all day at a quarry. And yet all she has done is hobbled from bed to bed and offered basic care to those who need it. She needs more rest than she is getting. Used to being hunched over beds all day, her back refuses to let her stand up straight. Even her fingers betray her. After a day of refilling nutrient bags, pushing Blocks into new positions, wiping bodies down with washrags, her fingers seize up. Some don’t move again, no matter how much she rubs them, until she soaks them in warm water.
Sacrificing some of the people she was supposed to be caring for has accomplished nothing.
This thought stays in her head as she lies on her cot before sleeping. Like those all around the gym, her body is perfectly still. If someone else were alive and happened to walk into the gymnasium, they wouldn’t be able to distinguish the caretaker from the Blocks
Occasionally, she offers them prayers. But doing so immediately makes her feel guilty because she isn’t sure what she believes and what she doesn’t. She has no idea what lies in store for her or anyone else. How, then, is she supposed to help make them feel like they are getting ready to pass into the next world? She doesn’t even know what she thinks will happen when she dies, so telling them they will soon be reunited with loved ones leaves her feeling like an imposter. She finds herself apologizing for the prayers she offers, as if no prayer at all is better than one that has skepticism behind it.
She is sure Mother Teresa never apologized for one of her blessings. No matter what Mother Teresa believed, her words meant more than anything Morgan can say simply because there was conviction behind them.
The days she is on a remote moon base, she can create a world without being bothered by history or by real-life humanitarians. Sometimes, her spaceship is quarantined from the main outpost. Other times, she is the only survivor after an asteroid has exploded into the mother ship.
Just because the Great De-evolution ended life on her own planet doesn’t mean life has to stop all together. Other planets have been colonized. Astronauts are beginning to explore past the Milky Way. Sure, she and the injured astronauts she cares for will eventually meet their end, either after running out of oxygen, getting too close to the sun, or some other routine ending for unlucky space explorers, but at least man has established bases on Mars, on the moon, and will continue to spread out amongst the stars. Mankind will reach out and live on planets that were inconceivable during Morgan’s childhood.
But she looks at her laptop, unused since Daniel’s death, and knows no one else is out there. Not on the moon, not on Mars. Especially not on Earth. Instead of flourishing, mankind is on the verge of extinction. There is nothing to explore and no one to explore it.
It is painful each time she realizes there is no other reality for her than the one she is in. She is old. She is caring for the last Blocks. That is all there is. As she makes her way through her rounds, refilling each Block’s nutrient bag, tears drip onto her shirt and then onto the floor. This is not acknowledged. Instead, she goes on caring for each person as if she isn’t crying at all.
Maybe life starts the first time you play make-believe and ends the moment you admit you can no longer imagine something better for yourself than what you have.
18
It’s still well past midnight by the time she finishes caring for the Blocks in quadrant 4. There is one bed missing from quadrant 2, four from quadrant 3, and two from quadrant 4, but she has not made up many minutes. Any time gained from having one less Block to care for is lost, the very next day, in the time it takes to power up the forklift, drive it into place, and carry everything to the fires. It’s a losing battle.
Her legs feel like they have finished a marathon. Her hands feel like they have broken stone all day at a quarry. And yet all she has done is hobbled from bed to bed and offered basic care to those who need it. She needs more rest than she is getting. Used to being hunched over beds all day, her back refuses to let her stand up straight. Even her fingers betray her. After a day of refilling nutrient bags, pushing Blocks into new positions, wiping bodies down with washrags, her fingers seize up. Some don’t move again, no matter how much she rubs them, until she soaks them in warm water.
Sacrificing some of the people she was supposed to be caring for has accomplished nothing.
This thought stays in her head as she lies on her cot before sleeping. Like those all around the gym, her body is perfectly still. If someone else were alive and happened to walk into the gymnasium, they wouldn’t be able to distinguish the caretaker from the Blocks
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