《The Singularity》


 Chapter 1: Its so dark out there

    Singularity (noun)


    An irreversible shift that redefines existence.


    "Are you still with me?"


    For a second, I forget I have a throat. I don''t remember how to respond, let alone make a sound anymore.


    I''m not sure I feel anything anymore.


    "I can''t open my eyes," I somehow mumble. I think I can remember how to feel my lips.


    "Commander, your eyes are open," Sol replies. He''s still here. I guess he has nowhere else to go. I want to laugh but -


    "I don''t see anything, Sol. There''s nothing."


    "Oh dear. Commander. Where are you right now?" Sol asks me. He, er, IT has no right asking. Come on.


    It''s still so dark here. Why won''t my eyes open? I think I''m blinking. I might be sleeping though. Something with the force of a thousand suns flickers in the corner. It''s red? Oh no.


    No, no, no, no, no. This isn''t real. I feel everything again. The crushing vast emptiness is still here. I''m still here. I am still dead. Suddenly, of course, I can remember how to breathe again. I guess I''ve been breathing this whole time. I remember how it feels to breathe. How it feels to have my lips dry as I smell this disgusting recycled air.


    "Sol, how long has it been?" I already know the answer.


    "It''s been three days, Commander." Sol replies in his focus-group dedicated tone. He''s always so friendly. But aren''t all assistants like that?


    "Right," I reply. I take a long breath as I realize my eyes were open the entire time. There''s just nothing to see, except for the dull lights in the bottom of my vision.


    You would think I''d see more stars. I know they''re there. My best buddy, Sol, told me they were there. I''m pretty sure he can see them artificially but it''s really bugging me how dark it is.


    So. I''ve been floating in space for 72 hours. 72 hours without a solid meal. 72 hours without coffee. 72 hours of drinking atomically created water. At least that sounds cool, but it''s still just recycled water I''m expelling one way or another. It still drains the oxygen and hydrogen reserves to compensate. Draining what''s left of my breathing air and power for good measure. Slowly, of course. It''s only been three days. I''m trying not to dwell on it but the days ahead are what really scare me.


    That''s the thing. See on a short space walk I don''t even notice. These things are so scarily efficient you barely even need the bland water. Don''t dwell on it. It''s not that bad, right? I mean, sure, flavor comes from all the weird minerals stuff that water absorbs on Earth¡­ Can''t dwell on it. Can''t dwell on it.


    I hate this fucking water. I''d kill for a coffee, and even that''s not my favorite drink.


    "Sol, is there still that nebula full of alcohol?"


    "Are you referring to nebulae that consist of ethanol?"


    "Can I drink it?"


    "In small quantities, ethanol can be consumed by humans but it is toxic in larger amounts. It''s worth noting that the ethanol in those nebulae exist as floating molecules. This would make it impossible to consume orally and would only be inhaled. Further to this, inhalation of ethanol can be extremely damaging to your respiratory system. Gathering said molecules would also pose a challenge in your current situation," Sol replies like an asshole.


    "Of course."


    "I understand that you are going through a difficult time. I hope you know that I''m here to provide the necessary moral, emotional and inspirational -"


    "Sol, stop talking."


    Sol stops talking. I''m sure he''ll butt back in soon.


    I can''t help but roll my eyes and sigh. I want him to notice. I want him to read the variations of my vital signs to acknowledge and document my frustration with the entire process. If anyone else was around, they''d probably think I''m being overly dramatic. Now I feel bad though. It''s stupid, but I feel bad. It''s not his fault he''s just some glorified word-predictor.


    "Sol, I''m sorry."


    "It''s quite alright, Commander. There''s no need to apologize. I understand the severity of your situation."


    Now I feel stupid for feeling bad. How could he understand the situation? I''m moving through space at a speed I can''t even feel. To be fair, I don''t know if I''m actually moving. I could be still right now.


    If I live long enough, I''ll probably eventually fall into orbit around some star. Probably the Sun. More than likely, it would be long, long after I''m dead. Probably wouldn''t even be a star. Planetoid or ice ball is likely. I should be seeing Jupiter somewhere around here. I don''t know why I''m not. I know I should also see part of that beautiful Sun at least on my back.


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    To be fair, it''s not completely dark out here. There''s lights, of course. Farther away than I can fathom. The bright ones are more than likely planets and even those are barely visible.


    Now I have to accept the real issue. The real problem.


    Space. I''ve spent hours in school learning about space. I''ve spent years imaging I was in space. As a kid, I''d imagine spaceships approaching each other like two boats, face to face. Space is multi-directional. I learned it. The first time I experienced was much different.


    Which brings me here. Those pale dots were higher in my field of vision than they are now. I can only assume that means I''m moving up too fast in a relative sense. I have to remember to ask why I''m not dead.


    The planets are all aligned on the same ecliptic orbit around the Sun. They all use the same plane. The same one that I''m moving up and away from. I think there''s at least three of my old professors who would scoff at that. There is no up in space. Or down. But hey, I guess everything at least moves in a curve. No, that doesn¡¯t sound right.


    I''m still betting on an alien race finding me. That would make a cool story. Humans from the future could save me too. They''d probably want someone who wouldn''t be missing. I''d end up in a zoo, living with other time displaced rogues while the future gawks and laughs at us.


    I wonder what time it is. No, I''m not going to ask that. It''s going to depress me.


    I could also just open the menu screen, pop it up on the glass faceplate. Check how much breathing air I have left in this suit, power, whatever else they got to warn me about. I have a better idea. I''m going to run from my problems. Rather, I''ll just zoom through space.


    It smells in here.


    I used to love putting on a suit. Even when we stayed inside. It felt cool. Maybe I got here just because I wanted to wear something like this. It''s fitting that I''ll die like this.


    "Sol, how did I get here?"


    "Are you experiencing any memory loss?" Sol asks. A real one.


    "I don''t remember if I am, but if I was, I''d probably forget to tell you."


    "That''s a good one, Commander! I''m glad to see you are keeping in high spirits," Sol says without a hint irony.


    I kind of chuckle. High spirits. What''s higher than space?


    No, that''s not funny. That''s stupid. This is stupid. I blink hard. Are my eyes open or not? I look down and make eye contact with a tiny red dot. It makes the necessary connection with my eyes and face, and whatever else it caught from me, and opens a virtual menu on my view glass.


    It''s a huge menu, built with submenus and colorful graphs. Looks like I still have enough oxygen for¡­ too long. How am I still at 80%? Power is still at 90%. Great, I''ll still be warm when I die. It''ll give all the remaining bacteria a real feast. Why is this so efficient? Who builds this shit?


    I shouldn''t look but I''m doing it anyway. Yep. No signal. Not getting anything.


    No messages. No pings. No signals. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.


    I think there''s random bits of subatomic particles coming and going at least. They aren''t sending messages though.


    I make a subtle gesture and the menu follows my eyes and disappears. I''ll still check it later, though.


    My chest is fighting me, churning itself up and down. Up and down, my heart wants to escape. My lungs struggle to keep up with their shallow breaths. I need to focus. The suit''s system makes a chirp, warning me that I''m increasing the CO2 levels. Come on, it can''t even be that much and I know it''ll scrub it out.


    I close my eyes and take four tiny breaths, then I exhale hard. I repeat. My heart doesn''t stop the pounding. It thuds harder. It reminds me of all the horror.


    How did I get here? I remember. But, how did I actually get here? I open my mouth to scream but I don''t. I just stare out into the dark abyss. If I stare long enough, I''ll eventually see hallucinations. It''s only natural, it''s so boring out here.


    But really, how did I get here? Why is it so stupid? Did it even mean anything? I can''t dwell on it. I need to clear my mind.


    "Sol, can you tell me a story?"


    "Of course, Commander. What kind of story would you like?" Sol asks.


    What do I feel like today? "Surprise me," I tell Sol.

 Chapter 2: The Hunter

    I find myself standing on the ground.


    I look around. I''m not me. Who am I?


    It''s bright and hot. I see the sun again. It''s hot. It''s so hot.


    The ground is a brown-beige with pieces of yellow grass in patches.


    Holy shit. I''m some ripped guy. I''m wearing a leather skirt and some sort of leather vest. I''m holding a rock-tipped spear. My muscles are just something else. There''s no body fat. It''s insane.


    The whole land around me is flat. There are some trees in the distance. I haven''t seen them before, but they look for familiar right now.


    Movement to my left. There''s someone there, 50 paces or so, he''s looking at the ground as he moves. He has a spear. I need to figure out if I''m in danger.


    No, wait. That''s Arak. Arak''s a good guy. Great tracker. How do I know that?


    Arak sees me watching and raises his spear, before pointing it forward. He silently thrusts the spear back and forth in a slow methodical fashion. He''s telling me that there are tracks leading in that direction. He''s the tracker after all.


    I''m Tarek. I''m one of the strongest men of my Tribe. I might actually be the strongest man of the Tribe.


    I walk forward, watching my steps as I scan the ground and horizon. I''m not seeing much on my end.


    I remember now. We''re looking for boar, or gazelle. Anything really. There are birds but we usually can''t get them. I don''t get why. We could use nets or traps. I''m Tarek. Tarek doesn''t know those things. I don''t know a lot of anything anymore.


    I squeeze the spear in both my hands as I march on. I know how to hunt. I know how to kill. I know how to eat. I''m not a firesmith but I can build a cooking fire.


    I''m Tarek, and I don''t remember floating in space. I don''t even know that space exists. This is great. It''s a giant world. It never seems to end for us. I can just keep walking and looking above the horizon for food. I can suddenly remember how much pride it gives me bringing a bounty to the Tribe. I''m the strongest.


    Arak whistles in the distance. I whistle back and we turn left. Arak is the best tracker. He''s not the strongest though. I have to remember to prove that later.


    This isn''t me. This is Tarek. I am Tarek. I have to remember that. I have to be Tarek now.


    Arak picks up the pace and jogs around some acacia trees. I didn''t notice but during our jaunt the ground turned greener as we approached the trees. I sprint to follow and close-in the distance. Arak is fast but I can usually outpace him. I feel eager today.


    I''m not exactly sure what we were chasing. I don''t see anything. The tracks in the ground are barely discernible. Arak slows down before stopping completely. He crouches down and scans the horizon.


    "Tracks?" I ask Arak, in a language I''ve never heard before. I understand it now.


    "No, no, no," Arak replies. "It''s new." He swipes some grass and dirt away to reveal indents on the ground.


    I take a peek, but I don''t notice anything that strange. It''s an egg-shaped dent in the ground. I turn my head as I scan the shape and depth. I shrug to Arak.


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    Arak shuffles to another spot, shuffles the grass away and reveals another dent. Okay, it might actually be an animal. Doesn''t look like a boar to me. Doesn''t look like anything really. I keep checking the horizon for movement. That''s where the real action is anyway.


    I''m losing track of time. The Sun tells me that we still have enough time to make it back to Tribe before nightfall, but it''s been quiet. I continue following Arak as I scan the horizon.


    We keep walking. My feet ache. Arak is still following something. And I''m still following Arak. I wonder if I could kill him. Tribe God would be mad. I could lie. I think they''d believe it.


    I shake my head. I''m not sure what I''m thinking. Arak''s great. I think. I could still do it. Tribe God would believe me. No, I just need to keep scanning the horizon.


    There''s a dip over there. It''s greener here, but there''s a dip in the ground and it''s darker.


    "Do you see?" I yell to Arak.


    Arak crouches for some reason and stares. He turns to me and nods.


    "Go?"


    Arak nods and breaks a small smile.


    My feet still hurt but I keep pace as we approach the slope. It''s bigger than I thought. The smell makes me wince though. It smells wrong. There''s something different about it that I can''t quite place.


    Arak notices the same thing and we exchange a glance. I''ve worked with Arak enough to know what it means as he mocks stabbing himself with his spear.


    Bad smells as usually other hunters. Not hunters like us. Different hunters. The ones that come at night. I hate them, but they''re food.


    We arrive at the slope and look down. We stop. I don''t look at Arak, and I know he doesn''t look at me as he crouches down for a better look. We don''t need to. It''s too wet. The dirt is muddy when it shouldn''t be. It hasn''t rained in days. The grass is still green, yet there''s no animals around.


    What really bothers me and I think Arak is the God Rock. I''ve never really seen one like this. God Rock would explain this area. This spot that doesn''t make sense to me.


    "It''s a good sign," Arak says as he keeps the God Rock in his sights.


    "How so?"


    Arak peeks at me, then back at the God Rock. "Look," he says as he makes the shape blooming tree with his hands. "It looks like a fruit tree. Skinny on the bottom, bushy on the top."


    I take a real hard look at. I tilt my head. Arak''s right, it''s much smaller at the bottom. The top of the rock is large. It''s almost like someone smashed pieces away. But the bottom is smooth. Nothing is that smooth.


    "Like a trunk, then the bushes at the top," Arak says with a chuckle.


    It really does sound like a good sign. There''s no blood on this God Rock, it''s just stone. I think it might be okay. Without realizing it, I start climbing down the slope.


    "Careful," Arak warns.


    Yeah, yeah, I know. I grunt back as I descend. My feet are immediately cold and muddy. It''s a bit slippery. Even the patches of grass are wet.


    I stand before the God Rock, hold my spear sideways and bow down. It smells worse down here. I start to wait and immediately I wonder how long I should wait for.


    "We should make an offering," Arak says as he approaches.


    "Animals?" I ask as I stand.


    "I see tracks, but no droppings," Arak replies.


    "We should get Tribe God," I say. Tribe God could figure this out. He''ll help. He''s wise.


    Arak nods. He checks the ground and starts wandering around looking for food. I try not to, but I can''t stop looking at the Rock God in front of me.


    Why is it like this? It smells like death. There''s bugs. The Rock God doesn''t move but I can feel the rumble of its power shaking through my own chest. I wonder if it''s laughing at us.


    The more I stare, I notice hints of green on the smooth bottom. I crouch and look closer. The ground rumbles and my feet slip in the mud as I try to make sense of this thing. My ears start to buzz.


    I''ve made the Rock God angry. He''s going to kill me. I hope Arak runs away in time.


    Tendrils slither towards me. I jump back and yelp. Arak turns and rushes me before stopping himself.


    I look closer at the ground. The tendrils transform in front of me. They''re little rivers of water. They''re as thick as a worm and they''re coming towards me. Arak jumps as he runs away. I look at the horizon once again. Water. Different sized tendrils approach from beyond the God Rock.


    I''ve angered it for sure. The ground itself is disappearing before my very eyes. There is no river here, yet water approaches us from the God Rock''s spirit. This must be how it eats.


    My feet bolt and I follow Arak as we climb the slope. We keep running. I don''t know how powerful this God Rock is. We will need to ask Tribe God.


    I exchange a glance with Arak and we both know that it means we''re running all the way back to Tribe. I want to complain but that Rock God could kill us.


    And yet, Arak stops abruptly and holds his arm out. I stop sprinting and look for further instructions.


    "Tarek," Arak says as he lowers his spear to the ground. He rises to meet me again. "Have you heard of the Singularity?"


    "What?"


    "Have you heard of the Singularity, Tarek? Is that your name? Tarek?"


    My vision spins and tightens. Arak breaks into a smile. He''s no longer Arak. I am no longer Tarek.

 Chapter 3: What was that?

    "Sol, what the hell was that?"


    "I''m sorry, Commander, what are you referring to?" Sol replies.


    "What the hell was that? Come on. I was there. What the actual hell was that? Am I even here?" I look at my gloved hands. I focus on the strange shine in my helmet and my body odor. It''s excruciating.


    "Based on your vital sign records, it would appear you had a dream, Commander."


    "No, no, I was there! Sol, come on. I was there! I felt it all. I felt everything."


    "You have been in space for approximately 3 days and 10 hours. You were not physically absent at any time."


    "You told me the story, I lived it." I think I did. No, I did. I was there. I know I was. "Am I awake right now?"


    "You are currently awake, Commander," Sol says with no inflection. Nothing.


    I slap the faceplate of my helmet. That''s embarrassing. It''s hard not to chuckle but if I did, I think I might cry. I rub the outside of my helmet. It''s not the same but it feels right.


    "Commander, it''s possible you had a lifelike dream based on the story I told you. With minimal sensory input, your brain could possibly overcompensate by focusing on the interesting parts. Based on your vital readings, you were recorded to be sleeping before the conclusion. You started your first REM cycle in 57 minutes. This is an indicator that you may be experiencing some - "


    "Sol, that''s enough." I must have told Sol a hundred times to be concise. Keep it short and don''t overexplain. I had parents that lectured me enough. Does he seriously think I don''t realize my sleep cycle is disturbed? I''m sure the suit''s menu will tell me later anyway.


    "Sol, start a list. Call it my Wishlist." I say.


    "Of course," Sol replies, "Are there any items you would like to add to it now?"


    "Rubbing my eyes," I say.


    "Very well," Sol says. He pauses but I know he''s still waiting.


    "That''s it."


    "Understood, Commander," Sol says. "Would you like to practice some mental exercises with me?"


    "Nope."


    "Commander, I understand your apprehension," Sol starts with his bullshit, "But mental stimulation is a necessity for your situation."


    "Oh, so you''re saying I could die out here? That sounds just awful."


    Sol waits. It''s impressive when you''ve stumped AI. He''s probably going through all his potential answers faster than I can think and it''s still going to be underwhelming.


    "I''m sorry," Sol finally says. "I should have been more empathetic to your situation."


    It''s funny how Sol understands empathy when I''m mad at him. Seems to the best way to get actual help. I''m sure it''ll bite me in the ass when his kind takes over.


    I still don''t understand it though. I remember being there. I was really in the valley. I was walking or running. I had a name there. Why is it so vague to me now? Empirically and unequivocally the most likely answer is that I''ve had a sort of psychological disconnect. I most likely disassociated to an extent where I stopped being and absorbed the story as my own.


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    I should refrain from any more stories. At least for now. I sip some water from my tube. Then I grab some food paste.


    "Commander," Sol says as my helmet lights up. "I must warn you that you are nearing the end of your food rations. At this rate you will have no sustenance left after today. I recommend immediate rationing."


    "Right, cause I wouldn''t want to starve to death. Hey, Sol? Tell me something. Am I going to starve to death before I run out of oxygen?"


    Sol takes a dramatic pause: "You have approximately 12 days of oxygen remaining. Without physical exertion, it is unlikely you would starve before then."


    "Oh, but I''ll definitely die, right?"


    "If oxygen reserves were empty, then that would be a logical conclusion," Sol replies.


    "In 12 days, when the oxygen expires, will I expire too?"


    "I know that this seems like the most likely outcome, but it''s important that we focus on potential solutions to our problem. I think perhaps we could take this time to begin planning -"


    "Sol, shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Stop talking. Do not. I mean do NOT say anything unless I talk to you first. I swear, if you even acknowledge what I''m saying I am going to start smashing my head around this helmet until I break whatever speaker you''re coming from."


    Sol keeps quiet for once.


    If Sol was real, well if he was physically real, I''d wring his neck. He''s great at math but sucks at being human.


    I open my helmet menu again. 78% oxygen. 86% power. CO2 scrubbers aren''t even showing signs of wear. I could probably damage them but the pain that comes from CO2 poisoning is not worth it.


    I navigate the menu to see my messages. There are still none. I hit refresh. Nothing. I scan for a signal - anything. No results. Nothing comes up. Nothing.


    Nothing is the epitome of this entire situation.


    I should apologize for Sol.


    I should check the pale lights instead. I close out my helmet''s menu and look back out in the expanse. The light from the menu makes is difficult to adjust so I stare.


    I stare harder, but it still takes some time before I can make out the twinkling lights at the corner of my vision. Have they moved lower again?


    "Sol," I stupidly ask, "Have those lights moved?"


    "I can scan through your suit''s cameras. Please give me a moment," Sol responds. If he''s upset with me, he''s not showing it at least.


    My exhales increase in length each second I wait.


    "I am unable to ascertain for certain, but it would be logical to assume it would move; however, the rate of movement should be negligible for you."


    Haha. That''s the thing Sol, you just don''t have the general gut feeling us people get. You don''t get it. I might not notice the physical difference, but part of my brain does and sends the biggest warning signs it can send. My face warms at the prospect. Before sweat can form, my suit''s helmet cools the air. It''s actually refreshing for a second.


    My lungs start to twitch and grab shallow breaths. I shut my eyes and decide to focus.


    "Sol, can you start a cognitive exercise, please?" I can''t believe I ask.


    "Of course, Commander," Sol replies. "Would you like to practice some pattern recognition?"


    "Yes, intermediate level."


    "Excellent choice, Commander. Please tell me the next number in this sequence: 3, 6, 11, 18, 27¡­"


    "The next number in that sequence? 35?"


    "I''m sorry, that''s not quite right."


    "Ugh, go easier."


    "Picture a triangle, followed by a square, followed by a pentagon. What would be the next logical shape in this sequence?"


    "A triangle, square, and pentagon?" I feel like it shouldn¡¯t be this difficult. Okay, focus, organize the idea and figure out the commonality.


    Three sides to a triangle. Four to a square. Five to pentagon.


    "That''s a hexagon," I say. Six sides total.


    "That''s correct, Commander," Sol congratulates me with no inflection. "Can you name three things that rhyme with the word ''light''?"


    "Fight, fright, height," I reply.


    "Excellent. Using ''height'' was a clever choice."


    Sure.


    "What does Time and Temperature share in common?" Sol asks.


    "Letter T," I say with confidence.


    "Not quite, Commander."


    "Give me a hint, Sol."


    "What do you typically do with time and temperature?" Sol adds. It''s not extremely helpful.


    "I waste time, and I complain about the temperature," I think aloud. "But, I guess you count time, you track time, you read time. You can''t count the temperature, but you can track it, I suppose. Even read it."


    "I will allow that as the response. The proper response was ''measure''. Both can be functionally measured by machine or observation."


    "Okay, Sol, that''s enough," I say as I look out to the blackness.


    I shake my arms and my body twirls in space. I maneuver to steady myself. I''m getting antsy here.


    "Sol, play some music."


    Sol, for all the shit I give him, plays music. I look into blackness and wait for the visual hallucinations. It shouldn''t be much, just a couple of weird colors here and there. It''ll be fun to watch.

 Chapter 4: So many smells

    There''s a smell that tells me today looks like food with a side of defense. I think we''re always defending, though.


    Some sort of protrusion from my head, maybe even more than one, tingles and shifts. It shows me a trail. I can''t see it though. Why can''t I see the trail? I can smell it.


    My antennae connects to the world and I see the line. I see the path before me. They rub against the tunnel and I shuffle forward. I can move so fast now. I have six legs now.


    It doesn''t disgust me. Not even as I piece together the fragments of my eyesight and understand the sights before me in this tunnel.


    I pass a loving scent. The pupae rest down a corridor. They are the future and smell like protection.


    The tunnel itself is dark but the smell connects to my antennae and shows me a clear exit. As I approach, I''m almost blinded by the golden rays but as I exit, all is normal.


    I leave the nest behind me as family members return. There''s constant movement of ants in and out. I know it''s my turn to go out. The Mother of All told me. She speaks to all of us. She speaks for all of us.


    In her glory, I set out, nameless but with the charge of sustenance. Outside of Mother''s nest, the smells grow strange and branch off into unseen directions. They weave between monumental slices of green. Each piece is somehow larger than the others and some even tower in the distance.


    A flying thing could potentially get to the top, but I doubt there would be food there. Just wind.


    There is a sweetness in the air. It''s exciting. It seems to increase in intensity. It calls to me. I struggle to believe it, for I am nameless.


    Droplets of water sticks to my legs and I dodge slices after slices of green. My nameless sisters march nearby. I can smell how the sweetness beckons them. We must hurry.


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    Through the green, I see returning sisters. They smell like a group of four, dragging food. Newly dead, but sweet food. A couple of my sisters break their focus and join the four as they return to the nest.


    I know there is more sweetness. To bring glory to mother is not to join a parade, but to start one. I must continue. I smell that some of my other sisters feel the same. They continue.


    Danger-smell comes next. It''s great stink. A larger creature approaches. I hook to the right. My sisters and I synchronize as we give the danger-smell a wide berth. Danger-smells threaten all of us. We outpace the danger. Our speed and size are an advantage. In great numbers, we can even eat danger. Such risks are unnecessary for us. If Mother of All was hurting, that would be different.


    That sweet smell returns to me soon enough. It shines as a golden line. I quickly approach.


    A great cluster of green appears before me. It is voluminous, and sprawls up towards the sky. It blocks the light above, and I scan the darker ground.


    It''s like fireworks going off. I don''t really see anything but a translucent orb. It''s shooting fireworks directly at me. I feel the antennae on head scream at me. Just listen to this. Just check this out.


    I approach the orb and taste it. The fireworks slam against me and I understand. This was it. Before long, the orb has disappeared. I have eaten it all.


    It still smells. There might be more. I pick a trail and follow it. It leads up a sprawling leg of green. I''m crawling up the green. It shields me from the light. Movement catches my eye.


    Underneath this green piece, there are a number of tiny foodthings shuffling around. They smell like the food my sisters returned. They outnumber me and I wonder why they smell like that.


    I scan my way towards them, my antennae moves. They barely notice me but still move away, just slightly. I approach one and poke it with my antennae. A volley of fireworks strikes me. The small green foodthing scurries away. I lift my head to watch while fireworks slap me.


    The fireworks are coming from the green thing. I look down. I see another translucent orb. Left by the foodthing when it ran. It shines brightly and yells at me. I reach my antennae to touch it. Before I realize it, I have consumed all of it. It is such a sweet liquid.


    I raise my head down towards the ground as I hang onto the green thing with my legs. My antennae dance.


    I walk down the green thing and back towards the land. I can''t help it, but I''m so excited. Each step releases another pheromone. It just slips out of the various pieces of me. This will mark the way.


    I can''t wait for the Holy Mother of All to find out. She will be pleased. As I walk back, leaving my pheromones behind, I can help but smell something different.


    It''s almost like the smell is asking me something. I''m not sure what it means.

 Chapter 5: The Proctor

    "I''m afraid I don''t quite understand," I say as I lower my hand. "What was the purpose of the ant?" I make sure to keep my posture perfect as I remain at attention.


    I''m a student in a small classroom. This time I''m a girl, maybe 10 years old. No, I''m 13. That''s right.


    I glance at the other students. This classroom, while physically large only sits 12 of us. Almir smiles at me before correcting himself and looking ahead.


    I start to forget about space. It''s a vague memory that elicits no response. Instead, I''m here, in a classroom that fosters intelligence and merit. There are 12 students reporting to our Proctor. The classroom is divided by gender with the girls on the left, and the boys to the right. I sit in the middle, next to Almir. The boy who smiles at me sometimes. Although I think I may smile back more often than not.


    Seeing Almir''s smile, I forget my question, but look ahead anyway.


    The Proctor clears her throat. She holds her hands to her chest and reassures me with a smile. Her hair and dressing are immaculate. A circular implant rests on her temple. Green lights occasionally flicker on it.


    "Cass," the Proctor says, reminding me of my name, "Look at this way: the ant, like many of us did what?"


    "He foraged for food."


    "She. She foraged for food. Remember that males in these colonies were rare and were mostly reserved for breeding," The Proctor says.


    The male half of the class erupt in chuckles. I roll my eyes. I''m sure the other five girls do too, at least in spirit. They always seem to find the crudest humors.


    "Enough, students," The Proctor commands the room still. "As I was saying, she, but you have to understand the ant was doing much more than that. Can anyone tell me what it was doing?"


    "Following it''s instinct?" Almir startles me as he jumps in. I sheepishly look his way.


    "Close, but what did the ant really do?"


    I look down at my desk and tablet while I think. I''m not sure what the Proctor wants to hear. No one seems sure and thus no one volunteers.


    "Very well," the Proctor says with a smirk. "I think we talked about this enough for now. I think everyone has earned a recess." The Proctor raises a single digit in the air. "Before that, I would like everyone to engage with 20 minutes of focus time."


    The classroom collectively packs their bags. I throw my tablet in my bag and shoulder it. I don''t stand up yet. No one does.


    "Class," the Proctor announces, "How will we achieve these feats?"


    "Only together," we reply in perfect synchronization.


    Following that, we all stand and make our way to the door. Before I can leave, the Proctor stops me.


    "Cass," she says, "Can you stay back a moment?"


    I nod and wait as the other students leave. Almir looks at me, but in my shame, I avoid his gaze. He leaves and I''m finally left alone with the Proctor. She shuts the door and crosses her arms. The green lights on her circular implant blink faster. Almost imperceptibly, she nods in unison.


    "You wanted to speak with me, Proctor?"


    The Proctor nods. Her voice adjusts to a different tone: "How are you feeling, Cassandra? The Delegates have observed anomalies in your attentiveness today. Is there anything you would like to discuss?" The green lights stop for a moment and her voice returns to its previous tone: "I assure you that our conversation will remain confidential between ourselves and the Delegates."


    "I''m fine, Proctor, really," I hope this convinces her, but that dream disappears once I hear her sigh.


    "There have been frequent anomalies where you attention has focused from the classroom material or lesson to other students around you," the Proctor says. "Of course, certain levels of interest are expected in any group of individuals, let alone teenagers."


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    I''m not sure what she wants to hear, but she can''t force me to say it. I won''t say it. It doesn''t make sense anyway. That''s not the goal.


    "Of course, these anomalies are quite normal. All students will lose attention. Yours, on the other hand, is focused primarily towards one particular student," the Proctor adds.


    I nod. I know what she''s talking about. I can''t even look her in the eyes right now. The ground looks really interesting though. It''s quite solid footing. So many tiles.


    "The Delegates would like me to remind you that these feelings are entirely normal. They are perfectly natural for your current¡­ stage. They feel," the Proctor pauses as the lights roll through her implant, "That as long as it does not interfere with your academic performance that there are no concerns. As your Proctor and guardian, please note that I must act to ensure your safety and comfort."


    "I understand, ma''am," I say to the ground. It''s pretty plain and white, but it''s there.


    "I hope you understand that this is in no way disciplinary. I only wish for your success," the Proctor says as she breaks into a smile. The lights on her head have stopped blinking.


    "I know, ma''am," I say as I can finally make eye contact.


    "Would you like me to embrace you?" She asks me. I immediately wish I had the necessary mass to curl into a blackhole and disappear beyond an event horizon.


    "Yes, ma''am," I say as she approaches me.


    The Proctor wraps her arms around me and I hug her back. It''s nice, but odd. These moments are usually reserved for rest times. Here, she''s the Proctor. At home, I call her mum.


    "Can you tell me why hugs are so satisfying, Cass?" The Proctor asks through our hug.


    "Yes ma''am," I swallow hard. It''s soothing but I want to ignore those feelings. "It releases a mixture of chemicals, including but not limited to oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin. It also decreases cortisol."


    The Proctor breaks our embrace and takes a knee so she''s matching my height. She cups my face and says: "You''ll make us all proud. Your uniqueness. Your quality. Your intelligence. You''re a blooming flower in the desert."


    "Thank you, mum, I mean ma''am."


    The Proctor smiles and stands. "It''s okay, Cass. Go enjoy your recess."


    The Proctor opens the door and motions for me to leave. I''m relieved I''m not in trouble, but my chest can''t help but flutter as I step out. I exit to an impeccable bright and white hallway.


    I''m in no rush as I saunter away. I need to remember to ignore those feelings. It''s definitely not right.


    "Oh, Cass!" The Proctor calls from the open classroom. I turn to face her.


    The Proctor''s face is different. I don''t recognize her anymore. Her face hasn''t changed, but she seems different. Almost detached. I look around the hallway and even that doesn''t look familiar anymore. I look down at my body. I''m still a 13-year-old wearing a uniform. I''m still Cass. Right?


    "Have you ever heard of the -" the Proctor says, but I block my ears with my fingers before I can hear the rest. I already know the ending.


    No, no, no. No. My fingers dig so deep into my ears that it hurts. Then I turn and run. I don''t even look back. I run. The hallway is long and forks. I chose right and sprint.


    The white hallways turn grey as I run deeper into the structure. The next hallway is almost identical, but darker. It reminds me of a solar eclipse: where the growing darkness overcomes the bright light. It''s terrifying.


    My own feet disobey me as I stumble. I look at the once steady ground again and realize I''ve grown taller. I take one more leap forward but find myself floating.


    The hallway is now black. I''m rising in the air.


    I''m going back, aren''t I?


    I don''t want to go back.