By K. M. Dailey
Evelyn Hall had long been numb to the weight of a planet on her shoulders. The everyday stresses that accompanied ruling the nations of the world had destroyed her health and strained her mind past its limits. But now that its end drew near, the decision to stop fighting the inevitable felt less like a burden and more like a release.
Evelyn adjusted her gas mask and breathed deeply. She could still smell the smoke. She paced to the window of her penthouse office. A smoggy horizon tinted the sun a dark orange. Mobs with posters flooded the streets, crying out her name, imploring her to make one decision or another.
“Ma’am, the evacuation team leaders await your final orders.”
Evelyn turned and faced John, her advisor and mentor of twenty years. It should be a trivial decision. The world and everything in it or the humans. There was no choice to be made.
“And yet you must be the one to make it.”
Now that the moment had come, Evelyn couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “John, in my place, what would you do?”
John folded his hands in front of him. “I would very carefully consider the footage I sent you.”
Evelyn closed her eyes. She hadn’t even watched it.
John gestured to the laptop that sat on the large corner desk, and she nodded. He pulled up the video.
The man on the screen paced back and forth from his desk to the window. Even through the poor quality of the footage, Evelyn recognized her burden in his expression. He, too, had ruled everything.
In the video, a team of attendants sat in a circle around a conference table. None faced the camera, but they introduced themselves to each other by name—an environmentalist, an astrophysicist, the ethics chair, and two engineers.
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. It was exactly like the meeting she had had with her team the week before. Their leader, Kalmin Alexander, was the only one whose name she remembered after it was spoken, but the others’ professions were easily memorable by their mannerisms. Their faces and names were different from the people on her team, yet exactly the same.
“We’re certain we can’t make adjustments to the design of the rocket?” Kalmin asked. “No matter what we do—”
The environmentalist shook her head. “It’s the end, sir. The planet is destroyed as it is. The exhaust from the colony ships, the depletion of the resources in building them—will reduce all hope for this planet to nothing.”
Kalmin pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and leaned against his rolling chair with the other. “And the engineering. It will work? No question?”
The astrophysicist winced. “This is risky business, sir. There is always danger. But the engineering is quite thorough, and the path is the safest we could find. No unnecessary risks.”
“The life left on this earth—there is nothing to be done?”
The ethics chair cleared his throat. “Sir, I cannot advise—”
“It is our only chance!” one of the engineers cried. “If we stay, we die!”
“If we go, everyone and everything on this planet dies.” The voice of the ethics chair shook.
The room in the video, as well as Evelyn’s own office, was silent. She found herself holding her breath.
With great effort, Kalmin stood. “Us or the world. It should be an obvious call.”
Sad smiles passed around the room, and Evelyn found herself holding her breath in the silence.
At last, the astrophysicist said, “It’s your call to make, sir.”
Evelyn stood, closing the laptop. “What is this, John? A joke? Our meeting from this morning, repurposed?”
“I’m afraid this footage is quite real and original, ma’am. A time capsule from the very first century of our era was activated by the rising ocean levels. This video was inside.”
Hot adrenaline flooded her limbs, and Evelyn sank into her chair. “This is the oldest record of our people?”
“It is.”
“The very first? From the start of our civilization?”
John straightened up, his eyebrows raised just slightly. “From the end civilization as we knew it, ma’am.”
She sighed and took a last glance around her desk at the flight plans, the star charts indicating the wormhole that would take them to their new home. The spec sheets for the ships. The warning report from the environmental team.
“We’re going to do the same thing they did, aren’t we?” she asked. “Run from a world we destroyed, only to destroy a new one?”
John’s lips pressed together. He didn’t make eye contact.
“We forgot,” she whispered.
“People do that, ma’am.”
She took a deep breath. “There’s nothing we can do for this planet, but we can save the next one. We’ll have to remind ourselves.”
The slightest hints of a smile appeared in the corners of John’s eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We won’t hide this footage away in a time capsule. We’ll make it public. Required viewing in every classroom and workplace. Everyone will know, from one generation to the next.”
John nodded and raised his eyebrows. “Are you ready to give the evacuation order?”
“Yes.” And at last, she truly was. “We’ve been given a fresh start. Let’s learn from our mistakes.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I LIKE this! The ending was super powerful. Well done!
Thank you! It was fun to write :)
Well done!
Glad you enjoyed it!
I thought the end was going to be that the 1st group stayed and survived, rebuilt. I wasn’t sure which decision I was rooting for!
Thought-provoking and eerie. Do we ever learn from our mistakes? History says we do not. But hope reigns eternal…
Nice—gripped me from the first paragraph and didn’t let go. I really enjoyed the uplifting ending, too!
Great job, my friend!
Love it! Reminded me of the theory put forward by Glenn Hancock (and others) that our Earth was once home to another human civilization(s), now lost in time.