BY JOHN LEPPIK

Copyright is held by the author.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

As the president I was supposed to pass that message to the rest of the world on behalf of the nation. Being president of the chess club complicated things, since I was really only qualified to speak on behalf of the Aurora, Minnesota chess team. It was a team in the sense that there were two of us, and we’d been to a Minneapolis meet once. My buddy Peter and I had gotten pretty good at the game over the years, but never big leagues good.

“If I had any way of stopping this, I would have done it already. We would have done it already.”

There wasn’t much to do in Aurora, at least not by typical definitions of “entertainment”. Peter and I had a game where we would go out into the woods and try to throw rocks as far as we could without hitting a tree. We got pretty good at it growing up. There’s a surprising amount of complexity that goes into it. You have to find spaces in branches big enough for a rock to fit through, then be good enough at throwing to actually make it through them. Even if you missed, the rock would still make a satisfying clunk sound against the wood, and that was enough to keep us entertained.

“We had no idea that life could bounce back as quickly as it did.”

I found the hologram while out for a walk in the forest; one of the few things to do here. The shimmering figure stood upright, with a skirt of tentacles around its waist that looked very out of place for its deer-like head. My first instinct was to run. The creature spoke so earnestly, desperately, and intelligently that I couldn’t help but listen. The fact that it spoke at all was alarming, but its devastated tone made me pay attention after all. Weird things live in the woods, but maybe this one was worth talking to.

“If you decide to hate us, I understand. I hate us too, after today.”

I tried to reach out and touch the creature, but it flinched back. Just as well, since it passed right through a tree; my hand wouldn’t have fared much better. It was silly, maybe, to assume that a creature like that would respond well to a hug, but I couldn’t help it. It looked so sad and pathetic, I had to help it.

“Please, don’t make this any harder for me!”

Its words declared it to be a threat, but its legs were so shaky it was having trouble standing upright. The tentacled deer creature mimed leaning against something, but there was nothing nearby, so half its body shook and sobbed against nothing.

“It’s not personal.”

Eventually the creature composed itself enough to speak coherently, its words halting and choked. It asked for a tour of my civilization, and promised to preserve it for eternity as best it could. I was confused, but nonetheless offered to show it around Aurora. The hologram shifted and copied my appearance; it was a little rude, since it didn’t ask first. I pointed this out, and it shifted again into an unobtrusive point of light, apologizing profusely all the way.

“It’s my fault. Our fault, but– Mostly mine.”

I showed it the one coffee shop here in town. Hilla gave me a weird look, but she served me the usual chai latte that I always end up getting. I know she saw the orb following me, but she didn’t say anything about it. That’s how things worked in Aurora. People don’t get all up in your business if they can help it; they just gossip about it to all the neighbors.

“Anything with a minimum carbon content will be fed into the network, which covers essentially all life.”

I tried to explain what a chess club was to the creature once our little tour got to the school. Apparently it had translated the word “president”, but didn’t have a word for “chess”, and assumed that I was the President of the nation of Chess. I had some fun teaching it the rules, and it caught on pretty quickly. After just a few games it was giving me a real run for my money. Eventually it confessed that it was trying to copy my strategies as closely as possible; it was much easier to trick it after that.

“I can’t fix this. I don’t know how.”

I took the creature to meet Peter, my best friend since before I could walk. He took one look at the thing and laughed, his head thrown back before pulling me into a deep hug. “You really got yourself into something else, huh?” he said, patting my back vigorously. “What kinda thing is this, anyway?” He tried to poke at the creature but his hand passed right through the hologram. His eyes widened, and he backed away for a moment before his smile returned. “Holy shit.”

“I was hoping maybe you would be able to fix our mistakes.”

Peter’s smile was gone as the creature explained what was happening. For all that he’d managed to bounce back from over the years, this was going to be it. “Sorry, man. I have to go check up on mom.” His voice was low and sour, and he shot a glare at the creature that I’d never seen from him before. It was a look of pure venom, but he managed to contain his anger until after he’d left the room. The creature seemed to melt a little, standing low to the floor, its legs shaking as it struggled to stay standing despite having no physicality.

“Smaller animals first, until it works its way up to you.”

The air was eerily quiet as we stepped outside into the forest. The birds migrating back from winter that had been omnipresent just a few days ago were nowhere to be found. I’d always liked the sounds of spring, and maybe I would’ve felt better if I could hear them. We made the journey to my favorite rock-throwing spot in silence. “Can you contact the real president for me?” asked the creature. I laughed.

“You’re all going to die. There’s nothing I can do.”

My phone pinged with an alert. Impressive, considering we almost never got cell service out here. Mass starvation was being reported in southeast Asia, a place I could point to on a map but not tell you much more about than that. Soon it would cover every corner of the world. Authorities were saying some kind of devastating plague was sweeping the globe, or maybe it was solar flares. It’s not like the truth would do them much good, even if I somehow managed to send a message to… where? The News? The President? I set my phone to airplane mode and headed back to the house.

“A revivity network.”

“What are you doing?” asked the creature as I fumbled around in the closet. I pulled out my trusty fishing rod, given to me by my dad when I turned twelve. Dad lived down in Minneapolis these days, after his big break doing data analysis for a company that ran onion farms. I had more attachment to Aurora than he did, considering I’d lived my whole life here but he’d grown up in Cleveland. After mom died there just wasn’t much keeping him around anymore. I explained to the creature that if the world was ending and no one could do anything about it, the least I could do was to get some fishing in. The creature looked very confused. Clearly it didn’t understand fishing.

“It’s you! You’re the life that arose.”

I’d been down the path to Whitewater Lake countless times growing up, but there was some weight to the idea that this would be the last time I made the trip. Bird skeletons littered the underbrush, the skeletons themselves slowly turning to dust. It was nice that there weren’t any mosquitoes on the walk over. That was one animal that the world could do without, I thought. The creature’s footsteps made noise behind me now, shuffling through leaves and underbrush as it tried to keep up while dragging its feet along the path.

“I’ll make sure to preserve your history.”

There was some comfort in the idea that maybe I would eventually be forgotten. In terms of world-ending events, Aurora, Minnesota probably wasn’t going to be high up on the list of places worth writing about. Hell, it wasn’t even the most interesting city named Aurora. I’d rather just live a good life and then become dust on the wind, letting the next generation have its turn. That time ended up being a bit closer than I’d thought it would be.

We made it to Whitewater Lake, just me and the creature. The water was still, the air quiet, the trees turning a dull brown. Whitewater Lake was my favorite spot to go fishing as a kid, and my dad used to take me here for my birthdays.

I sat down at the edge of the water, letting my aching legs stretch out on the thin mat of pine needles across the forest floor, feeling them gently poke into my skin and get stuck there. I set my fishing rod to the side and took off my shoes and socks, letting the soft needles gather up in my toes. Mom always yelled at me for doing it because I’d end up tracking pine needles into the house, but here I could do what I wanted and no one could stop me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” said the creature, struggling to stand up on its wobbling legs despite only being a hologram. I gestured for it to sit next to me, and reluctantly it joined me by the lakeside, its tentacles folding around it. “If I had any way of stopping this, I would have done it already. We would have done it already.”

“You still haven’t even told me what’s happening. Exactly, I mean,” I replied, skipping a rock across the water.

“You’re all going to die. There’s nothing I can do.” Its eyes shifted to avoid eye contact. “If you decide to hate us, I understand. I hate us too, after today.”

“I figured I was gonna die eventually. What makes today so special?”

Its eyes snapped back to mine.

“Would you try to take this seriously?” it yelled. “Your entire planet is going to die! You’re all going to die, and it’s . . . it’s my fault. Our fault, but mostly mine.”

“OK. Then fix it. I dunno what you want me to do about it.” I tied a bobber to my fishing line.

“I can’t fix this. I don’t know how.” It sighed, the breath shuddering through its body. “I was hoping maybe you would be able to fix our mistakes.”

“I’m the president of the Aurora chess club. I don’t know how to fix anything but busted cars and laptops. No . . . whatever it is you keep talking about.”

“A revivity network.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that is. Sorry.”

“It’s a network our species built spanning the entire planet to avoid extinction. An asteroid was on a collision course with Anterrus, er, Earth. We needed a way to survive after it hit.”

“You were around for the dinosaurs?” I shook my head. “Sorry. The revivity network.”

“It was intended to be a reboot for us. We would save our consciousnesses and genetic signatures, then wait millions of years for enough life to arise that we could use it to rebuild our bodies.” Its ears were flat, its face stained with tears as it turned to me. “It’s you! You’re the life that arose. We had no idea that life could bounce back as quickly as it did. Anything with a minimum carbon content will be fed into the network. Smaller animals first, until it works its way up to you. All life will die so that we can be revived.”

I turned to the creature.

“What’s your name, friend?”

“Don’t make this any harder for me, please!”

My face tightened to a frown.

“If you’re killing the whole planet, you could at least introduce yourself.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m Hazelnut.”

“Like the tree?”

“It means something different for us, but yes. Like the tree.”

“I’m Joshua, like the Bible. That probably means something different for us too.”

I reached out a hand to the creature. It reached out a tentacle in turn; thin, but solid. The hologram was giving way to a physical body. For all the pathetic softness behind its words, Hazelnut’s body was rough, with a strength behind it that could probably pull my arm off if it wanted to.

“I’ll make sure to preserve your history. Maybe someday we could build another network, a better one, and bring back your people.”

“I hope you don’t bring me back. I think it’s my time to go.”

“Yeah.” The creature sniffed. “I wish we’d learned that sooner.”

“Want a go?” I asked, throwing the fishing line into the water. The ploonk sent waves across the water, interrupting the silence of our conversation. “Might be the last chance you’ll get.”

It was just as well that there were no fish left, because I didn’t have enough muscles left to reel them in.

The creature sobbed as they became real.

Like what you’ve read? Tip the author.

John Leppik is an English educator currently working on a research project with the University of Minnesota to make role-playing games more accessible for high school students.