A Day to Remember
By CN Reagan
Mankind had learned to late of the Sun’s impending extinguishment, and although the great celestial mass would remain, fixed in the center of all things, we no longer would benefit from his atomic fusions, his warmth, his Light. The hydrogen had run out, time had run out; great migrations would have to occur. The freeze would happen suddenly and with complete disregard for humanities proclivity for more temperate environs. Our only hope, we were told, was leave, or rebuild underground, near to the unremitting heat and light of Earth’s mantle.
Time had been short, but man has an amazing capacity for growth. Our actions had been swift and we had prepared as best we could. Most had left, years ago now. Drifting in never ending slumber, searching for a new star to warm them. Ironically, they live in perpetual darkness, asleep for a possible millennia, waiting for resolution. I, among few others, remained. The remnants of a once flourishing world now flocked to the warm deep breadths exhaled in volcanic regions, to the safety and embrace of Earth’s still beating heart.
Now all that was left of mankind stood against the chilling salt breeze of the surrounding Oceans. Gazing into the last light of a dead Sun, the final rays already emitted; only minutes remained while they traveled their great distance. Only time, reflecting the great distance continuously bridged by the efforts of violent otherworldly reactions, was allowing this last respite from the unfamiliar permanence of night. Man’s perception of time’s linearity was fast folding, yielding to the infinite permanence of which cyclical behaviors no longer held sway. Visible cycles of night and day, the phases of our solemn moon, all would soon be mere retrospection. Standing here, on the continuously changing volcanic coastline, I feel the warm light upon my skin, the last somnolent efforts of our great star. Soon darkness would grip the world in its quiet occupation, and I remain undisturbed by the implications.
Humanity stands quietly, waiting for the bright lingering solar voyagers to end their journey, to land upon our skin and warm us one last time. Suddenly, the last rays of light kiss our cheeks goodbye and, the great orb that had been so instrumental in the origins of life, went dark; everything went dark. These final moments of placidity gave way to growing celerity, and the masses of people began to weep, embrace, turn, and hurriedly move underground swathed in the uncomfortable and feeble imitation of Man’s artificial light. I linger, staring fruitlessly towards what had been the horizon; my vision passing uncontrollably into the stars but never making it to the Light. My resignation is complete. I could not lose in any of this since I was unable to win; without a victor there is no fear of being conquered. My thoughts turned to those who had long ago left our cooling world; I begin to miss the silhouettes of people I knew. They had begged me to retreat, to give into to eternal sleep, to journey the stars for a new home; but I remained immovable. Mankind could survive I had told them. We are that mighty. We are now the Light.
Mortho and the Metal Mountain
By EE Reagan
The metal man, once tall and strong, had become trapped on a tiny island of an alien planet and fallen prey there to time, water, rust and disuse. Powerful servos and hydraulic pumps that had once so easily and gracefully moved the giant robot had begun to seize. Colossal but nimble arms and legs began to moan and creek and could barely be compelled to move at all. Finally, the massive robot conceded its fate and sat down for the first time in its long life, choosing to settle along the coast with its torso propped up against the sea cliffs, and its right arm reaching forward into the ocean.
For 300 years the robot sat immobile, until at last the corroded capacitors that sustained it’s life support systems failed and the mechanical creature’s brain ground to a halt.
A small community made its home on palm tree stilts and planks atop long tendri-like reefs that stretched into the sea from the base of a metal mountain. The abundant sea life there provided the village with all the subsistence they needed to survive on a tiny island with few other natural resources. Most in the village lived fulfilled and happy lives, and wanted for little, but one young child was restless. The boy, Mortho, spent most of his time exploring the island and looking for adventure. Mortho had been all over the tiny island and loved climbing it’s trees, and exploring it’s caverns.
On this day Mortho crept among the tall grass and rocks at the highest point of the sea cliff, and carefully shimmied onto the bent and twisted tree. The tree reached away from the cliff, high above the village and surrounding areas far below. Mortho surveyed his island home for only a moment before unceremoniously releasing his grip on the tree dropping with a “Clang,” onto the peak of the metal mountain several feet below as he’d done a hundred times before. A warm updraft blew ceaselessly here, bearing the salty scent of the ocean mixed with fragrant mountain herbs, and the metallic smell of the mountain. Mortho breathed it all in from his perch as he daydreamed of great adventures and treasures waiting to be discovered beyond the confines of the island. Cloudless skies and a glistening green sea seemed to stretch on almost endlessly until finally merging as one at the horizon.
Suddenly, the mountain below Mortho shifted, and with the scream of twisting metal, the boy toppled into the mountain. Mortho fell only a short way before crashing to the ground inside a hollow chamber. In pain and shock, he righted himself and began to look around. Darkness enshrouded the place where the boy stood, a feint light streamed from the crevice that’d swallowed him some 15 feet above. There was another pinpoint of light to his left. Guided primarily by touch, Mortho tried to catalog the sensations he felt through his fingers as he cautiously made his way to the light, past all manner of indecipherable constructs, but could not recognize the smooth and otherworldly materials his hands glided across. After some 30 seconds of painstakingly exploring the darkness, the boy finally drew close the the source of the light. A rounded device that seems to telescope as he touched it, with a circular hole from which light seemed unable to pass. No hint of rust adorned the polished metal of the object, a totally smooth translucent surface of some foreign material covered its opening.
Mortho slowly and carefully moved his face close to the object, drawn by some irresistible instinct to look through it and see what was on the other side. The brightness at first was too much for his dilated eyes, and he was forced to look away for a moment, but looking again the boy gasped with astonishment. He pulled away and rubbed his eyes, unsure if he’d seen a mirage or something real. He looked again. In stark relief a new object began to take shape. An immensely tall structure of more translucent material seemed to stand watch over so many tiny dwellings that Mortho lost count. A village of a size the boy had only imagined in his dreams loomed before him out of the object.
With excitement and jubilation, Mortho climbed his way back out of the metal mountain. Never had he ran so fast as he traversed the rocky terrain back down to the village to tell everyone about what he had seen.