Sadly, though, I think it was the fact that we were so divided to start with. It took a disaster of this magnitude to bring us together again and fight as one species—human. It just took far too long to materialize. And now this. It’s too late for us now. Game over.
I’m bleeding still. Just checked. It probably won’t stop. Their venom does that. Once you are bitten, any punctures will refuse to clot on their own. It’s not a pleasant way to die, but it can be peaceful. And it far outweighs being eaten alive by them.
While I wanted to stay positive and say more good things about how the few survivors came together, I’m finding as I write this, I’m becoming more negative about my fellow humans. Sigh. I wish it weren’t so. But in facing one’s death there is a truth that you see clearly. Layers of lies are stripped away and what remains is real and raw and ugly. I don’t suppose death is supposed to be easy, especially knowing how close at hand it is. Do I have hours before I’m finally dead? Will it be a matter of minutes? Or will I linger like this for days, unable to run any longer?
Only time will tell.
I suspect that someone will read this letter one day. Maybe in some distant future where the creatures have all been eliminated. Perhaps a way can be found to destroy them all and save humanity in the end. I just know that I won’t be there to see it. I wish the future well. I hope they don’t make the same mistakes that we made.
But who am I kidding? Of course they will.
Please try to remember this. All life deserves our respect. All life kills other life to survive. If you eat meat or if you eat plants, you are still ending life to serve your own. Don’t delude yourself about that simple fact. It is just the way of things. Respect that. Respect the life that gives you life. Don’t take it for granted! It was respect for life that my dad taught me. Respect all living things great or small. We can all be better people by remembering that—what few of us manage to survive.
And since the times are now so hard, I suspect that when this is all over, those that emerge will be stronger for the trials they have gone through. But one day they will fall to weakness again. Try to resist that. And, as a small favor to me, for God’s sake please don’t let grown men wear cargo shorts. They look ridiculous. And button-up pastel shirts. That is not how men should look. They are something else when they dress like that. And women. While it might not be a thing again for generations, stay away from all the plastic surgery. Those fat lips, body enhancements and tucks just make you look awful. And tattoos and loops through your ears. Really? Take care of yourselves. Stay fit. Eat right. Dance in the sun once in a while—and don’t worry so much. Ah, I could go on and on but now I’m just lecturing, and no one likes that.
Yes, here I am complaining once again. I need to stop doing that. I wish I could. But I’m scared. I wish I weren’t. And now I’m just rambling. I sure wish I had someone to talk to. Someone I could say good-bye to before I go. Someone who cared about me. But there will be no one left to mourn me when I’m gone.
Bobby and Kathie had come so far with me. They were both killed trying to save me. While we’d spoken for days about what a paradise we once lived in, they didn’t have a chance to say hardly anything to me before they died. The last thing Bobby said to me was, “Run!” And I did—like the wind, not looking back. The tears I cried for them and the rest of my friends and family came later. So much so I wrung myself out completely dry. I had nothing left after that. Just a mute numbness to it all.
In a way, I think it’s a rather funny and fitting end for the human race, if it comes to that. Avocados? Who would have ever thought that was possible? Not me. Cosmic justice, I guess.
Ha, ha! The joke’s on us.
I can hear them now. They are coming for me. I guess it will all be over soon. I won’t bleed out after all. Small favors.
THE SPACE TOILET
By Brendon Taylor
10,000 Words
Prompt: Space Toilet.
THE WAY REGINA Jenkins exhaled through her nose showed perhaps a little too much frustration, atypical of the clinical lead chemist. Attempting to resume her work on the latest round of enamel on aluminum bonding, and blinking shut the text window in her lower left glasses lens, she scowled in earnest. Cracks in the enamel. There were only two and they were smaller than a spider’s web, but still any cracks were too many.
Cleaner than the Pope’s language, the lab occupied the thirteenth floor of Jenkins Industries. The entire building was a megalithic structure whose bottom three floors (above ground) were made from thirty-foot high limestone columns that were wrapped in steel and glass extending fifteen stories higher into the Houston skyline. Newer buildings now dwarfed it, but the Jenkins building had been a pioneer a century earlier, and remained a national historic architectural gem in the downtown area.
“Care to share your bad news?” Colby asked, his bug-like eyes made larger by his thick, round-framed glasses.
“Two cracks—”
“Not that,” he said, his broad mouth forming an apologetic smile. It was so big that with his goggle-like eyes, he looked a bit like a toad. “You just saw a text that left a taste like an overripe durian.”
Regina tightened her mouth as their conversation drew the attention of the other two lab team members, women in their mid-forties like Regina. “My daughter came home for the weekend and is making dinner.”
Sonya Velasquez, lead biochemist on the team, made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Sounds horrible. An honest home-cooked meal? How dare she?!” She arched an eyebrow – her trademark sarcasm expression.
“Jess only makes dinner when she has big news to share.” Regina ushered them back to work. Unsuccessfully. “Last time, she changed majors, and the time before, she transferred from Princeton to the University of Texas.”
Colby’s unblinking gaze fastened on her. “At least you get to see her more.”
“That’s true, and we enjoyed having her stay with us all summer. But she’s been back at school for two weeks, so the timing is unusual.” Regina set the cardstock thin aluminum and enamel bond back on the workbench.
“Then what’s the problem?” Colby asked, finally blinking.
Sonya, who was tall with perfect skin and stunning, dark eyes, stepped close to Regina. Sonya was proof that life was not fair, having beauty and brains in spades. “Think about it, Colby. Who has been particularly uptight about the release of Phase One and also sits at the Jenkins dinner table?”
Sonya’s Columbian accent made everything she said sound exotic – even Phase One of the release of the Jenkins Space Toilet. She hated the name, Space Toilet, but it was not an issue worth fighting about with her husband, Sam Jenkins, CEO of Jenkins Industries. They were in need of a long discussion about their marriage, but it could wait until the stress of Phase One was finished.
Colby nodded knowingly.
The Board of Directors had hired two freelance professionals to oversee the release of Phase One, unwilling to allow the economic outlay of over 900 million dollars to be spent without frequent progress reports and financial analyses. Sam was normally tightly wound, but the stress of this project had pulled him off his axis.