We’re a weapon. We will deliver the poison to bring everything to an end. I sink to my knees. Everything? Namika, Amos, Tariq and her remaining colleagues; every tree, every bird and every squirrel will die. All our efforts, all our suffering and hardships count for nothing.
I did this. If I hadn’t interfered, the virus would have been held back by the efforts of Namika; we would still be working towards the New Dawn, none the wiser, living the same dreary day-in, day-out... but alive.
Rebekah stands before our judge and executioner, arms waving, yelling at its indifferent face. But I hear nothing, and have nothing to offer. All I can do is watch. To my right, Reuben lies on his back, his hands cover his eyes but I can guess what he sees. He sees what he has lost, what will never be, a life that should have been his to enjoy, snatched from him at the moment everything should have changed for the good.
And me? I suppose I’ve had a better life than those who went before me. I didn’t choose this existence; I didn’t choose to be born on this ship hurtling away from Earth. I wouldn’t have chosen it given the opportunity. But I’ve walked on New Dawn; I’ve touched a living tree; I’ve witnessed the beauty of a sunrise, and I’ve known love, true love.
I look at the Reaper. It stands motionless, majestic in the knowledge it’s finally achieved its creator’s objective, its very reason for existence. An objective set thousands of years ago by a human passing judgement on a generation, yet to be born. My chest tightens. How dare they take my life? A life that, up until a few months ago, was never mine to live. Even my early days were a lie, spent suspended in a chair with my memories constructed and planted in my head by a machine. I didn’t crawl around a play mat with Reuben building pretend houses, and I never sat on Mother’s knee. No, all of that was beamed into my head by a screen, made to feel real and sow the seed of my false love for machine-Mother. I was conditioned not to think for myself, but to believe everything the screens told me. I wasn’t allowed to dream. Until a few months ago I didn’t even know what a dream was. Those screens embedded a false story of my first years into my brain, those… screens!
I take what seems like my first breath since my death was announced. I call to Rebekah, still raving at the Reaper. She twists to face me, tears streaming down her red cheeks. I wave her over. She looks back to the Reaper, then turns her back and walks to me as if led by an invisible hand. I kneel beside Reuben and wait until Rebekah crouches. I whisper. ‘We have to get to Education.’
A fresh tear slides down Rebekah’s face. ‘What’s the point?’
I check the Reaper. ‘The screens, we can use them to stop that thing.’
She shrugs, shaking her head. ‘How?’
‘I think they might be what Namika was trying to reach. I can’t remember what she called them, but they’re another way to talk to the ship.’
Rebekah mumbles. ‘And?’
‘We can try to wake up the… the fail-safe.’ I nod at the Reaper, ‘It will wipe out that and Mother, and put back the original system, before Mother went mad.’
Rebekah stares at the floor. Reuben takes her hand, looking to me. ‘It could work.’
Rebekah slumps. I take her other hand. ‘It’s at least worth a try. We can be there in minutes, and we’ve got… what did it say?’
She sighs. ‘Twenty-eight minutes… which was at least five minutes ago.’
Reuben glances over my shoulder. ‘That thing hasn’t moved since. I don’t think it would care, or even know, if we left.’
I squeeze Rebekah’s hand. ‘We can sit here and die, or we can at least spend our last moments fighting back.’ I lean closer and whisper in her ear. ‘Come on, where’s the Rebekah who defied Mother in The Square? Where’s the Rebekah who saved us more than once on New Dawn?’
She lets go of my hand and wipes her cheek. Her eyes meet mine. I take a few more vital seconds to look into those eyes. Our first, brief exchange outside The Square had held me captive, stopping time itself, shutting out all the noise and bustle of the only world I’d known up until then. In that moment I’d changed, and despite our actions bringing us to where we are now, I wouldn’t wish for anything else.
The lines fade from around her eyes. ‘Okay.’ Her spine appears to lengthen as the fire returns. ‘So, when we get there, do you know what to do?’
I smile. ‘No.’ Her lips respond. I laugh. ‘But when has that ever stopped us?’