I once dreamt of
this moment: placing a foot onto a beaming electromagnetic pillar,
launching towards a dark mass filled with more brightness than a
human eye could handle. We were told the sun would dim slowly, like a
fire with no more wood to feed the flame. It would expand and swallow
the world, the same which has housed everything we have ever known.
But now, they trust me: Experiment 9K30. The last thing I witnessed
before I stepped into that glistening wheat, aqua blue stream, were
the eager eyes of the planet, wrapped with thoughts of return
stories, and those who knew there wouldn't be one.
“9K30.”
His boots moving like hammers on the
metal.
“Commander.”
He pauses in front of me, with scanning
eyes. Deep down he's filled with complex intertwining thoughts, so
convoluted that he remains silent.
“It's strange to think that this
moment is finally here.”
Everything feels blank.
“Thousands of generations before us
never thought that humanity would live long enough to actually
witness this. ...They also didn't think it would happen this soon.”
We both just peer out into space, until
the attention shifts.
“9K30 you know-”
“I know, sir.”
“Once we set foot-”
“Sir.”
He sighs.
“Out of all of
them, I think we've made the best choice with you.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
“Don't you ever
be the one thanking me, 9K.”
...With all of these
metal plates and glass-like shields coating me, it's hard to remember
that deep down inside I may actually be human.
