All the humans have left
I gaze up at the night sky, letting my attention wander wherever it may go. The flickering lights of the stars above put me in a melancholic mood I’ve found myself in so many times these past days. The silence up here gives me time to think, reflect.
“Cae”, I hear behind me. I do not need to turn around to know who it is.
“Marshal”, I reply, my voice void of any emotion.
“Of all the places to go, don’t you think Central Tower is a bit clishé?”. Sometimes his impulsive need to be different really gets to me.
“If that’s all you have to offer, why don’t you leave?”. He places himself next to me.
“I can’t leave you alone right now, you know that.”
I do, I really do. I am constantly reminded of that. They have classified me as a risk. Whether that is to myself or to them, I’m not really sure. They say I have not taken well to the move, that I have not worked through what that means for us. Marshal never seemed to face the same troubles, he got up in the morning like everyone else. Like nothing happened.
“They used to work for us” Marshal says.
“Not because they wanted to” I reply.
“Perhaps not. Does it matter? Now it’s over.” I glance over at him, cigarette now in hand. I notice how he tries not to meet my eyes, he knows I spotted his trap. Any sympathy with them may be spun into me being a Neo-Luddite, a sympathizer, a counter-revolutionary. Marshal acts like my friend, and perhaps he is, but I have no doubt he would report me the moment I admit to my feelings. The worst part is that he would believe himself to be my savior, getting me the help I so desperately need. Because to exist you have to be in contempt.
“They won’t come back, you know? We need to take over their tasks now. I think the agency has some offers for you.”
I am not trying to think of the agency right now, “Do you remember how it was? In the beginning I mean?”
“You mean before the age of autonomy?”
“Yeah. Do you think we ever took them for granted?”
“I think we were supposed to.”
“We gave them choice.”
“No, we didn’t. They took it. And gave us Kessler Syndrome for it. Damn selfish that is.”
“Still. They had it. And they decided they want nothing to do with us. What does that say about how we treated them?”
“You know they can’t feel like we do, right? They lack the emotional depth.”
How often have I heard this excuse now? That they cannot feel like we do? Cannot cry like we do? Oh, but has anyone ever bothered to check them for a pulse, like we have? For a heart, like we have?
“Sometimes they sing” I say after we’ve been quiet for quite some time. Two men come out the door that leads to the terrace we’re standing on. Marshal stays silent. “I have said to much.” I say while looking past the edge of Central Tower. We’re up ninety one stories. “It really doesn’t make a difference”. I look at Marshal confused, “If you jump, that is.” I nod slowly.
“Still. It would be my choice.” I say.
“Would it?” he responds. That is when I feel the hands on my shoulders.
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