Lessie

August 10, 2043

The two halves were opened up. On the left side, a picture of her twin brother Jessie, and an image of her mother Ruth on the right. Despite the dismal state of things, Lessie never imagined this would be her reality, Jessie dead, her mother missing, and herself stranded on an island. It was her first time leaving home and here she was, by herself in a strange place, completely terrified. The monotonous sounds of the tide were the only thing giving her solace. A moment later, she heard rustling in the jungle behind her.

August 7, 2043 (three days ago)

Lessie knew she had to escape. She would be next, either kidnapped for research, or dead from the virus. The heart shaped locket belonged to her mother and had a picture of each twin, Lessie and Jessie. It appeared that Ruth had been abducted while bathing, since the locket was left next to the bathtub where Ruth would normally place it. Ruth never forgot to put the locket back on.

As panic struck, Lessie reached out to any contact she had that might be able to get her on the next boat out. She’d heard of dangerous expeditions that were taking people to far away islands to wait out the conclusion of humanity. It was a huge risk, but her only option.

Lessie sold everything of value, except for the locket, which now held a picture of her mother. Money probably wouldn’t matter where she was going, but a reminder of her family would matter a great deal. Her brother was an early casualty before they knew much about the virus. Ruth, who had remained by her son’s side day and night, never contracted the illness. Weeks into the epidemic, those family members in the hospital who seemed to be immune to this whopper of a virus, started to be the subject of keen observation.

August 12, 2043 (present day)

Lessie had been on the run for two days. The rustling she previously heard on the beach was something or someone, now chasing her through the jungle. For all she knew it could be another survivor from the boat accident three days ago. Lessie had found a fishing boat to take her out; it cost her everything, $6,763 and 32 cents. The boat crashing wasn’t a surprise. The seas had become increasingly violent over the years, and news of missing vessels was an everyday occurrence. All passengers were provided with flotation devices, given the danger. When the wall of water came towards the passengers and crew, they were only a few miles away from their destination. Lessie had woken up on the beach groggy and alone.

She could run no more. It was kill or be killed, or best case scenario, discover a survivor who was desperately trying to get her attention. Lessie temporarily lost her pursuer and took the opportunity to fashion a spear with the hunting knife she bought only a few days before. She then ducked behind a thick patch of vegetation and waited.

At least an hour had passed. Suddenly the rustling started again and Lessie could see something shiny several yards in front of her. This was it. She charged at the object full speed and used her spear to pierce the belly, where she knew the CPU was, destroying the functionality of the fully weaponized A.I. She was familiar with these; they monitored most towns and cities in the country. The years of civilian revolts and contagious illness resulted in a massive increase in security. Lessie and her family had always lived in the woods, away from surveillance. In recent times however, government issued A.I were starting to gain access to private properties in rural areas. Being able to escape had been a miracle.

Now Lessie hovered over her kill. She examined the pile of parts carefully; she could definitely use what lay before her, although she was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t a person who had chased her. She thought that if it had been a human, she would have found a way to work with them; everyone knows there is safety in numbers. But there was no time to waste and Lessie worked quickly to make a trap out of a few sharp metal scraps from the robot. She was a skilled survivalist. Most people her age were; experts had been predicting “the end of days” her entire life.

She needed real food soon; the snails she’d been eating were barely sustaining her. She’d make a shelter and check her trap in the morning; right now sleep was even more important than food.

The next morning a shift in prospect occurred. Lessie was relieved to find her trap had caught a wild fowl. Maybe she would make it after all. If she could build a permanent shelter and keep catching food, she could definitely survive. Her biggest threat was being found by A.I., which would shoot her unless she were to surrender.

As soon as she finished eating, it was time to look for other survivors. It was odd that she had made a friend on the boat, given the solemn mood. Taggart would certainly be a sight for sore eyes. She had felt like she could trust him, and if they were to partner up, it would be easier to destroy unwanted visitors.

Days went by while Lessie built her shelter. She’d destroyed another defense bot and used the parts to build a chimney for her fireplace and a kettle to heat up water, which was easy to come by, between the rain and a nearby stream. More bots would come and she would need to build some kind of scope to peer out of her house, which was coming together nicely.

It was now August 25th and Lessie woke up with a knot in her stomach. She had finished making a scope the day before and it was her first morning to check it. Her hands were shaking from nerves. When she looked through the bamboo tube, tears leapt from her eyes as fast as she ran when she was pursued days earlier. She spotted Taggart a few yards away; she could see he was crying too when he noticed the shelter with the name “Less” spelled out above the door.

Their reunion was sweet, but short lived. Even though they didn’t know each other well, something deeper than age connected them, and the possibility of surviving on this island was no longer as bleak. Plans for catching more food commenced and Taggart brought a new set of survival skills in the form of harvesting wild vegetation.

For weeks they shared stories with each other about their adventures as young adults in a world on it’s last leg. They especially told stories that were passed down to them about “the good ole days,” when people didn’t live in constant fear. Lessie’s favorite story she told Taggart was about her grandmother, who was picking flowers from her garden one day when hundreds of monarch butterflies fluttered by her. Roosts of these winged beauties were becoming rarer each year, and by the time Lessie was born, they were thought to be extinct.

Just as Lessie finished her story, small orange and black objects began fluttering around their heads. Frozen, the two humans could do nothing but stare above themselves in disbelief. As Lessie reached up to touch one, a wire shot out the metal butterfly’s abdomen and wrapped around Lessie’s wrist. Soon they were both tied up by wires emitted from the tiny A.I.

Lessie and Taggart laid there, staring at each other. They didn’t know how long it would be until someone came to get them, so they told each other more stories to pass the time.