The Last Child of Earth

The year is 2094.

Earth is clean, quiet, and organized.

There is no war, no hunger, no disease.

There are no children.

The birthrate, once a number buried in academic journals, fell year after year until it simply... stopped. Humanity achieved immortality through genetic engineering—but lost its ability to reproduce. A sacrifice no one noticed until it was far too late.

Governments stopped funding schools. Playgrounds were torn down. Toys became artifacts.

And then, a miracle happened.

His name was Eli.

No one knew how or why, but one woman—an off-grid botanist named Mara—conceived a child without science, without permission. The world watched in horror and wonder. Protests erupted. Religious leaders called him a sign. Scientists called him a threat. The World Ethics Council debated terminating the pregnancy.

But Mara disappeared before they could act.

Eli was born in the ruins of an abandoned cabin in Greenland, where the atmosphere was still stable. Mara raised him alone for seven years. She taught him old songs, how to plant seeds, how to read by firelight. She told him stories of a time when children filled parks and laughter echoed in every home.

And she warned him to stay hidden.

One morning, Eli found her cold beside him. Her last breath taken silently, curled in a wool blanket.

He waited three days before he left the cabin.

When the world found him, cameras swarmed like insects. Nations sent drones. They labeled him “The Last Child of Earth.” Some wanted to study him. Others wanted to protect him. Most were simply afraid.

Afraid of what he meant.

Because Eli wasn't like them.

He aged.

He cried.

He dreamed.

He reminded them what they had erased: the sound of growth. The fear of loss. The beauty of becoming.

For a moment, the world paused.

Some remembered their childhood. The warmth of a mother’s touch. The thrill of scraped knees. The heartbreak of goodbyes.

And then, the orders came.

Preserve him.

He was locked inside a government dome, kept under surveillance, fed synthetic food, taught from screens. They said it was for his safety. But Eli knew better.

He asked them:

“Why are you afraid of me?”

They said: “Because you are the only thing left that can change us.”

By the time he was twelve, he’d stopped talking.

By fifteen, he refused to eat.

At sixteen, he escaped.

No one knows how.

Some say he returned to Greenland. Some say he walked into the ocean. Others believe he still lives in the shadows—reminding a soulless world what it lost chasing perfection.

But one thing is certain:

The world will never forget his name.

Because on the ruins of every fallen city, across the screens of every home, a message began to appear without explanation. No one traced its origin.

Just five words.

“We forgot how to live.”