The Ark and the Covenant

Pushing with all of my might, the steel door finally gives way, causing me to tumble out into the daylight. Picking myself off the ground, I can feel the broken skin of my palm igniting against the stale air. Wincing, partially from the wound and partially from the discomfort of leaving the temperature controlled lab, I stumble backwards into the doorway. Allowing my eyes to adjust, the world comes back into focus. My new world.

Stepping out of the lab, my foot comes in contact with the scattered mound previously barricading the entrance. Readjusting my position, I stoop down to inspect the pile scattered around my feet. Scooping up a handful, I marvel at the haze cascading off of its metal granules. I’ve read about this effect, but never seen it in real life. Turning my palm over releases the grains and a rainbow shimmers into existence as the kernels drop. The sunlight reflecting off the metal floods my mind with lessons learned - reminders of mystical, divine covenants... It’s beautiful. And yet, it makes me shiver. It’s a reminder of why I’m here.

We knew the end was coming. There were those who prophesied the inevitable. And this time, there were those who listened. We decided to outrun our extinction. Several remedies were proposed. Teams ran forward, executing complicated plans, expending resources and energies, with the hopes of saving our people. And although we couldn’t save them all, mankind would still be a given chance to survive. To start again.

The Ark program was meant to shuttle a select few away from the impending calamity. And like Noah, the prophet relegated to saving animals and a handful of humanity, we too built an ark to outlast a disaster resulting in humanity's complete reset. God promised to never repeat such a punishment on Noah's children again. They did a perfunctory job skipping the flood and executing their own demise.

There were too many variables. They couldn't account for everything. And in the end, they became desperate. Nothing taught us hopelessness faster than watching god abandon his children. And so, humanity perished.

My stomach returns my thoughts to why I am venturing out into the world. My rations have grown so thin that I no longer feel I’m sustaining my life adequately. I’m reminded of my mother’s words spoken years ago as she stared out the lab window. Clutching her heart shaped necklace, she began to speak. “Twelve hundred. Of all the numbers you need to recall in life, this one is vital. Twelve hundred is the minimum, daily caloric intake you need to live. Anything less and you will begin to starve.” My mother crafted all of my lectures as if my life would depend on them. It does now. I’m sure she would relish in the fact that I can’t ignore her any longer. Well, at least not his time. Damn her.

Twelve hundred

Twelve hundred

Twelve hundred

The number orbits my thoughts. I’ve never experienced such intense hunger before. Fear kept me exiting leaving the security of the bunker. Now, fear of starvation has given me purpose to leave. I can feel my blood pressure rise as the tension in my abdominal walls begin to intensify. I recite the number over and over as I move farther from the security of home and deeper into the neighboring fields.

Calories are life.

All I have to do is find them.

My goal for this first outing is close. Just a half a mile to the neighboring farm. The scientists often discussed the treasures they picked up from the neighboring farmer’s produce stand. Freshly picked vegetables and fruits found their way into the baskets of the lab's cafeteria. The supply dwindled as the end drew near. I know it’s been years since the farm was abandoned, but I have to believe that some form of it must still be intact. Even if they’ve returned to the wild, the trees are still bound to bear fruit.

The wind begins to pick up and as it does so, I slow my steps. Ghostly shapes begin to rise up and dance across the surface of the landscape. My internal alarm rises until I spot their source. Piles of metal granules, similar to the one I examined at the facility entrance, dot the landscape. The reflective plumes take on a life of their own as they are lifted up and collapse gently back onto the earth. The piles aren’t as protected here and I can see their secrets becoming exposed. My heart sinks as the sum of nearby mounds grows into the dozens.

The calm is shattered as a primal scream tears the space in front of me. The shock of hearing my own voice after so long, is replaced by my scream’s accompanying rage. Casting my hunger pangs to the side, I charge full force toward the nearest mound, kicking with all of my might. The resulting explosion catapults a prism across the grass and into the air. Kicking the pile into the oncoming breeze also covers me in a shower of color and a mouthful of metallic grit. My natural instinct is to be disgusted, but I force myself to pause and suck on the specks for a moment. Anticipation transforms into revulsion as I realize the flecks won't satisfy my hunger and I forcefully spit them back onto the ground. Wiping my tongue with the sleeve of my shirt, I make a mental reminder to close my mouth the next time I choose to disrespect a grave. Gazing down at the disheveled mound, I am aware of the freshly scattered bones.

I’ve read that in older times, when a body decays, it breaks down into elements that can be absorbed by the earth. Modern practices introduced microscopic robots that thrive deep in the dermic and circulatory systems. They spend a lifetime searching for impurities, cleaning systems, and removing build up in arterial walls. They repair the tiniest abrasions to larger internal damage. They also get removed, cleaned, and recycled for some other life to benefit from. Ending up in a discarded pile as their host decays feels so wasteful and yet, I’m mesmerized by the radiant marker it leaves for this grave. My anger subsides and I’m replaced with remorse. I should show better respect for the dead, but life has taken on a different set of priorities. My pangs return and I am reminded that I need to find food.

Arriving at my destination, I discover several rows of trees lined in parallel uniformity. The trees cry as unattended limbs sway unpruned and untended. Scanning the limbs is a reminder of the approaching season. Most of these bloomed earlier in the month. The mush of rotten fruit covers the soil as its nutrients reabsorb into their dirty grave. Walking deeper into the orchard, I arrive at a tree that stands taller than the rest. The foliage is lush and green and the occasional leaf falls away to expose hints of red. Like a good Pavlovian dog, saliva wells up in my mouth. Placing my satchel on the ground, my gaze falls across the trunk and limbs to find the best path to my reward.

Moments later, I find myself twenty feet off the ground. Maneuvering up into the tree took a level of coordination I haven’t had to work out before. Surprisingly, I did it. A surge of pride swells, as my confidence in my abilities continues to grow. The distance to the apple is only about ten feet out. Examining the branches before me, I decide the best course is to walk out atop a lower limb, using other limbs to support my hands and guide me as I progress forward. I’ve watched videos of this act performed hundreds of times before. Seriously, how hard could this be?

I’m about two feet from the apples when the breeze resurfaces. Filling the branches, the tree comes to life as the leaves exhale and the limbs shift. It’s exhilarating and refreshing as the sweat from my climb begins to cool. Closing my eyes to take in the coolness, I become aware of a shudder emanating from multiple angles around and below me. I hold my breath and wait for the vibrations to settle. For the first time, my eyes wander from the apple, slowly downward, to the ground.

The ground which appears to be much farther away than it was a minute ago. I’ve calculated risk before. The formulas are relatively simple. But, somehow, someone forgot to teach me about how that risk might affect my own chances. Starvation can be avoided. The current stupidity I have injected into this equation reminds me that I haven’t lived enough life to appreciate the life I have been given.

Twelve hundred

Twelve hundred

Twelve hundred

I have come too far to abandon these calories. After a small eternity, I exhale and less confidently resume my course. The fruit is within my grasp, but I’m having a hard time convincing my hand to remove its death grip on the tree limb above me. I trepidatiously release my handhold, and cautiously move my fingers toward the nearest piece of fruit.

And there it is.

I have the branch with the apple in my hand. I breathe out a sigh of relief and am suddenly aware that I am experiencing another sensation. Weightlessness engulfs my body as the limb surrenders to my weight. I’ve never flown before, but I register that somehow I have just taken flight. Floating through the air, the sensation of hunger is replaced by reality that the ground is about to extinguish my fall and for the first time in my pathetic life… I pray.

The darkness is strangely inviting.

As my system reboots, I am reminded that I am not entirely human.

With humanity lost, my mother redirected my creation from accompanying the Ark to becoming an Ark. A vessel that would contain the knowledge of an extinguishing people. Merging the team’s artificial intelligence and knowledge base into my conscious replaced most of who I am and what I know. I may be her son, but I’m also her monster. By god, she must have been desperate.

Opening my eyes, I assess the damage. I’m intact, but it’s approaching sunset. I need to return to safety. I remove the apples from the broken branch and secure them inside my bag. Clutching my injured wrist, I walk back in the direction of the lab. Crimson gilds the horizon as night prepares to settle in. I pass the mounds of the dead and I silently promise to bury them.

I find myself approaching the entrance to the laboratory just as the shadows stretching forward from its walls begin to fade into the oncoming night. My gaze lands on the reflective pile of what was my creator. My precious mother. Stooping down, I slide the necklace out from her remains. Opening the loop, I cautiously glide the necklace over my head, careful not to bump my broken appendage. As it nestles against my chest, the heart shaped locket radiates a crimson glow as its surface catches the setting sun.

I am reminded of my last words to her. My covenant with her. That I will find a way.

Clutching my injured wrist, I am aware of the frailty of this human shell. I need to be more careful. I hold the knowledge of humanity in my hands. I may just be riding out the remainder of adrenaline surge coursing through my veins, but at this moment, I feel different. I'm mindful of the hunger pains and am also acutely aware, more than ever before, that I am alone. But, as the sun vanishes behind the tree line, I'm experience a new, deeper feeling… I feel purpose.