I

Tenzin lay in the medical bay, feeling like a complete invalid. It was almost ironic that she should be the first one of the group to be injured. Had the injury been sustained by Derrin, no one would have even thought twice, since he was the great adventurer. If it had been Josh or Bart, there would have been concern, obviously, but it would not have been a shock. Tenzin, however, was not an action hero, she was a biochemist. Her great fields of adventure were locked within strands of individual DNA. All the martial training that she learned had never actually been intended for combat purposes, it had simply been a meditation technique. Thinking that she could use it in the field, as a defensive or even offensive practice, had been futile. The wounds that she had suffered on her leg was proof of that.

II

“Just a few more steps, Derrin assured her, as the group approached Syracuse. “Hold on, Tenzin, I have you.”

Tenzin imagined that she could feel the poison pulsing through her veins, warping her mind. A very active portion of her brain was telling her what she ought to be thinking, but she found that she could neither formulate the ideas, nor could she act on them. The situation was likely not as dire as she was making it out to be in her mind, but it made her feel better, exaggerating the circumstances. She craned her neck as much as she could to see Josh, jogging behind them, carrying the body of the creature which had attacked her, like a champion, carrying the spoils of war home after battle. In the back of her mind, she knew how much she would resent being the standard “damsel in distress” but for the moment, under the fog of whatever toxin had been introduced to her system, it was the only role available for her to play, with her associates filling in as the valiant heroes.

“Okay, we are here,” Derrin stated when they had come within a few feet of the base. “Josh, will you let Claire know that we are going to have need of her medical services?”

“I will let Dr. Roux know,” Archimedes’ voice greeted them, as he appeared, walking toward them from just inside Syracuse. “May I ask what occurred? The three of you were only absent for 37 minutes, but it appears as though Dr. St. Crow is much the worse for ware.”

Josh stepped forward, laying the body of the creature down in front of the base. “We were attacked,” he explained, “be three of these creatures.”

Archimedes frowned as he scanned the body. “That,” he nodded “appears to be a gopher, based on a very basic scan of the creature’s biology.”

“I got jumped by a rodent,” Tenzin laughed weakly. “If the guys back home ask, it was a bear.”

Josh laughed, despite himself.

“Listen, we can do all this biological structuring stuff later, right?” Derrin breathed as evenly as he could. “Right now, I need to get Tenzin to Sick Bay as quickly as possible. There seems to be a poison which was introduced to her system, and it needs to be treated immediately.”

Archimedes turned to Derrin sharply: “Was her suit compromised? If what happened?”

“One of the creatures bit through her suit and nicked her skin,” Derrin explained as quickly as he could. “The trouble is that--”

“The trouble is that bringing her back onto the base with unknown elements in her body could potentially compromise Syracuse,” Archimedes stated quickly, turning all of his attention to Tenzin. “She will need to be decontaminated before she reenters the establishment.”

Derrin frowned: “How do you recommend we--”

“She can shower right here,” Archimedes informed them. “The decontaminating elements have been programmed into the archway, for precisely this situation. Just set her down carefully, and get her out of the compromised suit.”

Tenzin felt her nausea increase as Derrin placed her on her feet again. She staggered and swayed a bit, but Derrin held her tightly in place. He then began to remove her suit. She considered resisting, but found that she didn’t possess the strength. She would have complained if the toxins in her blood were not telling her to enjoy it.

“Keep going,” Archimedes instructed Derrin, once he had removed the hazmat suit, and she was dressed in only a conservative white blouse and slacks. She could not remember when she had changed out of her kimono which she had put on when she had first found her bedroom, but she assumed that she must have done so at some point.

“Down to bra and panties,” Archimedes insisted.

Derrin hesitated. Tenzin’s hands moved, as if she was attempting to remove the clothing herself, but she could not remember how to use her fingers appropriately. They suddenly seemed to be too large for her hands.

“This is not the time for chivalry or propriety, Dr. Clarke,” Archimedes insisted, watching his caution. “While I am sure that Dr. St. Crow appreciates you respecting her body, she will appreciate it a lot more if you allow for her continued life. The venom in her system seems to be spreading quickly, as it is already affecting her motor skills. Remove her clothing, and do so quickly.”

Derrin nodded, and slipped the blouse over Tenzin’s head. Archimedes did have a point: Tenzin would probably rather have her modesty compromised a bit than have her body ravaged by an unidentified toxin.

“Step away from the doctor,” Archimedes instructed Derrin once he had taken off the rest of her clothing.

The last thing that Tenzin could remember before passing out was the cloud of steam, which burst from vents in the opening, encasing her body.

III

Tenzin remembered the fractured way that her compromised mental faculties had worked, even as her higher brain functions were screaming for them to behave themselves. She remembered Derrin carrying her, she remembered Josh killing the creature, she even remembered how Archimedes had identified it as a gopher. It was more humiliating than anything, when she thought about how incompetent she must have appeared to the other members of her group. Now, getting them to take her seriously would take even more effort than she had initially intended to employ.

She heard the door to the medical bay slide open, and she propped herself up enough to see Dr. Roux walking in, with a warm, slightly over-compensating, smile on her face. She sank back down, laying her head on the slight ridge, designed to function as a pillow for medical beds. She had always thought that it was curious that the ridges seemed to have been designed by people who had no idea what a pillow was supposed to function as, since they were likely the least comfortable aspect of the medical bed.

“You are awake,” Dr. Roux’ musical voice declared. “How are you feeling?”

Tenzin considered how she might answer that question, since there were many things that she was feeling at this moment: shame, humiliation, professional compromise, and insecurity, not being the least among them. Still, it was likely that Dr. Roux was simply looking for a basic diagnosis.

“I am fine,” Tenzin sighed. “Has the venom been eliminated from my system? My mental status seems to be returning to it’s normal state.”

Dr. Roux was walking around the table on which she was laying, examining various readers and calculations. “Your vitals seem to be stabilized,” she nodded. “Since we have no idea what the venom actually was, we had to assume that a standard anti-venom microbot would do the trick. It seems that we were correct. I saved the microbot, if you would like to examine the readings, once you are rested. I doubt that the toxin will have been identified, but it will be good to have on record.”

“I heard about what you did out in the field, by the way,” Dr. Roux continued her analysis. “For the record, I admire the fearless way that you reacted to the attack.”

It was pleasant to hear her saying such things, but Tenzin could not allow herself to believe them. “I was not fearless,” she sighed. “I was simply trained to react, and I did so according to instinct. That does not mean that I was not afraid.”

Dr. Roux laughed in a way that was simultaneously both friendly and slightly condescending. “Well, however you care to dismiss your actions, I stand by my opinion,” she said, supportively. “You were a warrior out there.”

Tenzin decided that it would be pointless to argue, especially since this was the first time that anyone had used the adjective to describe her. She would be lying if she said that she did not like it a bit. “How long was I unconscious?” she asked.

“Less than an hour,” Dr. Roux admitted, as she stared at a screen which Tenzin assumed was tracking her vitals. “There does not seem to be any long-term effects. You should get some rest and relax for a bit. Whenever you are ready, I have the body of that rat Josh brought back with him in the lab, ready for dissection. Since you are the biologist in the group, I did not want to start the autopsy without you. Besides, you were the one that got attacked. It only felt right that you should be the one cutting the monster open.”

Tenzin lay back on the lump. “I would like that very much,” she admitted, allowing herself to smile.

Dr. Roux patted her affectionately on the thigh. “Get some rest,” she repeated. “I have to get back to Bart in the lab. That sap we collected seems to be having some strange reactions to inorganic matter. I would love for you to take a look at it when you get a chance.”

Tenzin’s first instinct was to swing out of bed immediately and race to the lab. Still, she did have to admit that maybe a bit of rest would not be the worst thing at the moment. “Thank you for your help, Dr. Roux,” she said, listening to her steps as she approached the door to exit. “I will join you as soon as I am able to.”

“My name is Claire,” Dr. Roux sighed. “Forget the doctor prefix. Not only are we all now members of an endangered species, but we are the closest thing to a family that we have left. I would not use a prefix when talking about my sister; I would just call her my sister.”

“All right, Claire,” Tenzin relented “you can call me Tenzin, then. Just do not tell Ruscov.”

“I would not dream of it,” Claire chuckled, and she walked out of the room.

Tenzin lay her head back and closed her eyes. As much as she hated to lose her prefix, Dr. Roux… Claire did have a point. This was no longer the world that she had known, and maybe having others recognize her education was not the point that it used to be. This was an entirely new social environment. She would need to learn the new rules quickly.

She was not tired, not really. The gopher did deserve to be dissected. She would get to it soon.

Claire had told her to relax, and she intended to do that for at least a few more minutes.

IV

After observing some of the sap’s interactive properties, Bart was very careful to wear latex gloves at all times. If he could have worn a gigantic body condom, he likely would have, just for peace of mind.

Studying the sap had really brought up more questions than it had settled. Bart was really not sure how much more he would be able to determine without a portion of the original ivy to examine. When placed in a sterile, air tight container, the sap expanded to fill any space available to it. When exposed to oxygen, the sap would hold the same properties that it had previously held, but the expansion would stop. If exposure to oxygen was removed again, the sap would not return to it’s expansive state. It was as if oxygen neutralized that aspect.

This did make Bart wonder about the method of photosynthesis which the vine possessed, but that was far from the most curious thing about the sap.

Claire reentered the lab a short time later, after checking in with Tenzin. Bart was glad to have her back. It may have been awkward and illogical, but he did not like being in the lab with the sap, alone.

“How are things progressing,” Claire’s voice asked from behind him as she reentered the lab.

Bart shrugged, his attention never deviating from the container holding the sap. “I honestly do not know,” he admitted. “I will likely need to leave the base at some point in the near future to retrieve a sampling of the weed, itself. I don’t know that I understand the properties of the acidity level.”

Claire looked over his shoulder, and Bart breathed in deeply, smelling the rose scent that Claire’s modestly applied perfume added to the environment. The scent reminded him of the Earth that he had left, where the most natural scents that could be found were actual manufactured. Roses in the 22nd century had ceased to smell like roses, thanks to the toxins and hormones that were used in the growth process. The authentic rose smell had to be added, either through specific breeding or fragrant spray. The perfume that Claire wore was as natural as he had even smelled.

Except that, now, in this world, he would have the chance to smell a rose, and to see a natural flower. He would finally know what a rose was actually supposed to smell like, before manufacturers decided that they knew better than the flowers themselves.

Right now was not the time to be focusing on that, though. The most pressing need at the moment was to determine what the scientific and chemical properties of this sap were.

Archimedes,” Claire said, leaning closer to the container of the sap “are you able to supply us with an organic apple?”

“Yes, because that is absolutely something that you could not have found for yourself,” Archimedes sarcastic droning alerted them to his presence. “Will there be anything else? A cappuccino, perhaps? Perhaps a map, showing you where the organics are stored?”

“A plastic spatula would help the testing out a lot,” Bart said, refusing to acknowledge the bitter tone in the computer’s voice. The personality traits had been programmed into Archimedes; it was not his fault that he was an asshole. “You can bring that along, if you have an extra hand.”

Archimedes sighed and rolled his eyes. Well, more precisely, Bart imagined that he rolled his eyes, since he could not see Archimedes. Still, after a tertiary analysis of his personality quirks, it seemed like the sort of thing that he would do.

“I’ll provide your instruments to you, post-haste,” Archimedes sighed. “I will, however, be expecting a fairly generous tip.”

Bart laughed at the dated sentiment. Claire looked at him with a confused frown.

“A tip,” Bart began to explain. “You know, the things that customers used to leave for their servers at restaurants before the full implementation of ServiceBots. Supposedly, many managers treated their servers like slaves, paying them an unfair income. It was an unspoken rule that customers of these establishments would leave money behind for the servers, to supplement their wages.”

Claire nodded. “I remember hearing about that in history education,” she confirmed. “I’m more curious about why you laughed so emphatically at Archimedes’ joke, to be honest.”

“Oh, come on, it was funny!” Bart smiled, as he returned his attention to the sap. “I mean, where is he going to spend the money, even if we could tip him?”

That thought made Claire smile.

V

Archimedes entered the lab a few moments later with the items that they had requested. Claire accepted them, thanking him for providing. Archimedes nodded, and stepped to where Bart was examining the sap.

“What are you thinking about, Dr. Freddrix?” Archimedes asked, peering over his shoulder at the canister of sap.

“I am currently wondering when the next Loud Colony album would have been released, had the world not ended,” Bart joked as he examined the substance. “The properties of this sap cannot be properly analyzed without further testing.”

“Loud Colony released their final album, Entropy and the Sum of Zero, roughly eighteen months before the final nuclear strike,” Archimedes informed Bart as Claire stepped up to the bench, holding the apple. “It was met with mixed to positive reviews, many critics praising the--”

“That’s great,” Bart interrupted him, reaching out and taking the apple from Claire. “Now, do you mind? If you want to stay and observe, that would be fine, but could you give me a little room to breath?”

Archimedes smiled obnoxiously. “Here, watch this,” he laughed, and vanished.

Claire jumped, startled, then laughed at herself for having the reaction. Bart smiled at her affectionately. “I imagine that he’s really very helpful, if you know how to talk to him,” Bart said.

“Thank you, Dr. Freddrix,” Archimedes’ voice filled the air, causing both Claire and Bart to jump and cower slightly. “Now, would it be too much of an inconvenience for you to actually do something interesting?”

“Well,” Bart sighed, turning his attention back to the sap, “that’s a bit disconcerting.”

Bart took the spatula and ran it through the sap. It was thick, like a congealed jelly, with a consistency, similar to what he believed molasses would be. With a contemplative frown, he pulled the spatula from the sap, holding it out a few inches above the container. The sap dripped from the instrument, slowly, and Bart watched the spatula closely for a reaction.

“Nothing,” he confirmed after watching for a few minutes. “The sap has absolutely no erosive reaction to the inorganic, treated plastic and rubber of the spatula.”

“Were you expecting a different reaction?” Claire asked, standing slightly closer than Archimedes’ had been, before he vanished.

Bart shook his head. “I was just testing a theory,” he shrugged.

“I imagine that we are having the same thoughts,” Claire admitted, handing him the apple. “Since you’re already wearing gloves, would you care to do the honor?”

“Thank you, m’lady,” Bart chuckled, accepting the apple. With his free hand, he held the apple over the container of sap and, with the other, he dripped a bit of the sap from the spatula to the apple.

The result was almost instantaneous. Claire and Bart watched with interest as the sap eroded apple, quickly devouring it, until all the remained was the stem that Bart had held between his fingers. As it began to consume the stem as well, Bart dropped the remains into the vat which held the sap. Turning their attention to the vat, Bart and Claire observed the stem as it disappeared into the mass of goo. The two of them continued to stare for a few moments, as if expecting a foreign reaction from the mass, perhaps a dark and snarling face, emerging from the mass, declaring “YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND UNWORTHY”. Without taking his eyes from the mass, Bart sighed.

“All right,” he began his assessment “after initial analysis, while many properties of new substance are still in question, testing has shown that the sap possesses an acidic property when encountering tested forms of organic matter: soil, wood, and various fruits included. I see no reason to continue testing the acidic properties, since I doubt that any difference will be discovered.”

“The acidic nature of the sap does not apply to any tested inorganic tissue,” Claire continued the analysis. “Tested inorganics include glass, plastic, treated metals, and treated linoleum. Further testing of the acidic nature suggests redundancy.”

“Should I be recording your assessments?” the voice of Archimedes asked. “I mean, I--”

“You record everything that is said on the base, whether we want you to or not,” Bart interrupted the computer. “Since that is the case, I saw no reason to specify that you should record any analytical data that we provided.”

Claire giggled a bit at the repartee between Bart and Archimedes. “So, the acidic nature of the sap seems to have been confirmed,” she continued her analysis. “That seems to raise more questions than it answers.”

“I agree,” Bart replied. “The sap seems to react poorly to exposure to the environment. I would suggest that it was oxygen, but--”

“Photosynthesis,” Claire nodded. “You mentioned that. Are you thinking that a new element has been added to the atmosphere which is causing this condition to occur?”

“That would be the most logical conclusion, based on the limited data that we have,” Bart grimaced. “Still, atmospheric readings seem to conclude that the air was safe for human consumption. If there is something new in the atmosphere, it must not be significant enough to require recognition.”

Claire nodded, examining the container closely. “It expanded,” she said, thinking aloud. “We only put a small amount of the sap into the vessel, and it expanded to fill the entire container.”

Bart chuckled, half in affection, and half at the obvious nature of the comment. “It certainly did,” he affirmed, with only a slight touch of condescension. “That is another property that we should probably examine closer.”

“It was one that you failed to note in that analytical report which you just filed,” Archimedes chimed in.

Bart sighed. “So, about that Loud Colony album you were referring to earlier,” he grumbled.

Claire had to admit, it was nice seeing Bart stand up to Archimedes the way that he did. Her instant reaction to their host was to be intimidated by him, since he obviously possessed more information than any of the other members of the party. Plus, the way that he spoke to them seemed to suggest that he wanted them to be intimidated by him, or at least to respect his intellectual superiority. Watching Bart stand up to him caused her to respect Bart a bit more than she had previously. While she had never thought of Bart as anything less than a master of his field, she had not been given the chance to get to know him before the experiment. Now, working in such close proximity to him, she found that she appreciated him more than she had been expecting to.

Standing at a height of nearly six foot, he was only an inch or three shorted than Derrin. His long, braided hair hung to just below his broad shoulder blades, his soulful, brown eyes gleamed with a hunger for research, and the smile that shown from his round face was filled with the most blindingly white teeth that Claire could remember seeing. She would be remiss if she didn’t admit to noticing his hands, which hung from modestly muscular arms. His fingers worked with the precision of a practiced surgeon. That, alone, was very attractive. She had to check her emotional responses, since they had only been in this world for less than a day together, but it was still there. She simultaneously hated her instincts, while coveting their impulses. Claire had never thought of herself as clingy, nor even thought that she would need companionship at all. Perhaps it was the new world, playing with her head, or the fact that she was one of the last women on Earth.

VI

After leaving the meeting with the Illuminati, her first instinct was to get as far from Earth as possible. Since the next flight to the lunar colony was not scheduled for a couple of weeks, Claire figured that she would just clear her mind at a coffee plantation.

Sitting at a corner table, she pulled up the digital screen and placed her order: a simple large coffee, single origin styled after Ethiopian roast, sweetened with agave, tempered with a splash of cream. From her table, she had a good view of the Harvestbots, as they activated, harvested the beans, then roasted them as they moved to the processing machines. Coffee shops, if history was any judge, were some of the few establishments that had not changed much, since their inception in the late 20 century. They still employed human servers, and allowed for more intimate encounters. Many people came to coffee shops to socialize and decompress, others came to work on their art or education in peace, while others came, simply to see the smiling face of the host or hostess that took their order. While the fields of coffee beans in an artificial atmosphere were a relatively new addition, having first been implemented less than 75 years ago and fully utilized in the past 40 years, the coffee shop had always been a safe zone, promoting free expression and liberal arts.

Watching the automotons preparing her single blend provided enough of a distraction for Claire to remove herself from her head and forget some of the nightmarish imagery that had been implanted there. After the cute, tall server delivered her coffee with a smile, that temporary reprieve was broken. Claire wondered if she had missed her calling. Sure, she was one of the most highly regarded medical professionals in the wold (according to the big, giant head, at least), but maybe she would have been happier, working in a coffee shop. Coffee shop employees always seemed so happy. They seemed so content and satisfied, serving their customers and happily engaging in small talk with some of the regulars. Plus, she could not recall seeing an unattractive coffee shop employee. Granted, she had never seen a wealthy employee either, but money could only take one so far. She watched her server walking away, the hem of his fashionable cryoboxers outlined beneath his white slacks, and she fantasized about joining him for a shift, waiting on customers, crafting intricate blended drinks, and designing intricate artwork in the foam of lattes and cappuccinos. It seemed like a life style that she could grow accustomed to. Of course, it also meant that she wouldn’t know about the end of the world. At the moment, she could not determine whether this was a good thing or bad.

“So, what are you doing today?”

Greg had contacted her this morning, before the infamous meeting, with that exact question.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s my first day off in a couple weeks, so probably sleeping hahahaha.”

He wanted to take her out tonight, and Claire had agreed to go with him. He would take her to dinner at some trendy restaurant, showing off his financial security. Later, they would walk the path under the seaway, and watch the dolphins flirting with each other. Their hands would touch, their fingers dancing with the idea of intertwining, but he would wrap his arm across her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, instead. She would lay her head against his chest and, for a moment, she would cease to be a world-renowned surgeon. For a moment, she would just be a woman on a date. Then, he would open his stupid, fucking face and ruin everything.

“How was your day?”

That was how she predicted that the magic of the evening would end. The other aspects were only speculations, based on past experience with other suitors, but the conclusion of tonight would surely be unique. It was curious that such a rudimentary, irritatingly simplistic question would illicit such a drastic response.

“Well, I woke up, burned some calories, showered, got dressed, went to a conference meeting with some of the most influential people I’ve ever met, and a giant head told me that the world is going to end in a little bit. How was yours?”

No, she could not say that; she had been warned not to let anyone know. She would probably just break down in tears, embarrassing both herself and him. Then, when he asked her what was wrong, she would have to make something up: she just lost her medical residency, a great-grandparent had passed on, or something else that normal people complained about. Greg would hold her and tell her that everything would be all right, and that would just make her cry even more, since he would be completely wrong.

Claire continued to sip her coffee, as her swimming thoughts almost brought her to tears. Pulling her Signet7 from her wallet, she placed it in her ear and signaled for it to contact Greg. She would have to cancel the date. Greg was at work, doing whatever stupid thing it was that made him enough money to feel superior, so she would likely have to leave a message with his maid. That was a relief, since Greg would have wanted a more detailed explanation.

There was no point to ever talking to Greg again, actually. He was going to die when the world ended, and she was going to be just fine, asleep under the Earth. There was nothing that she could do about that, it was just the way it was going to be.

She hated that fucking head right now.

VII

Josh had never thought of himself as a hero. He had always fantasized about charging into battle, saving a beautiful woman from a savage monster. That was what virtual reality had been created for, though, since those things only ever occurred in the pulp fantasy worlds from James Dillward novels/VR inactments. Now, Josh could check something off of his bucket list. He had never thought that he would be rescuing to a woman like Tenzin, or really that any woman that he had not built in the garage would ever need to be rescued by him. When Tenzin had called him Conan, a heroic character from classic literature, it was likely the most triumphant thing that anyone had ever called him, and he had felt good. Of course, ’Joshua, the gopher slayer’ did not sound any tougher than ’Josh the cartographer’, but he would take what he could get. He knew that the Sleeper program had not been designed to make him a hero, but having to rely on his social skills more than his cybernetic skills would eventually force him to evolve and interact with people on a level of intimacy that he usually reserved for digital, artificial creations. Maybe he would find that he actually enjoyed it and, maybe, he would find that human intimacy was more satisfying than anything that he had felt with bots.

Technically, he knew that it was, in the same way that an organic book was more intimate than a digital file. Human interaction was more satisfying than virtual reality. He could program a realistic woman with realistic interactions, reactions, tendencies, and quirks, but if she was not real, he would always know that. He could communicate with everyone in the wold, via social networking, but if he never saw them, shook hands with them, smelled the colognes or perfumes that they wore, or shared drinks and conversation, he could not say that he legitimately even knew who they were. Now, as one of the Sleepers, he was forced to abandon his bots and embrace interactions. It made him uncomfortable but, somehow, he felt liberated.

Archimedes had insisted on sanitizing, which ultimately meant destroying, his hazmat suit, and that was reasonable. He almost wished that he could have kept them, since the feeling of triumph and courage that he now associated with the outfit might never be replicated. Of course, with them living in a new, unbridled world, the odds of that happening were slim. He would simply need to put himself in danger often, making sure that his life, and the lives of those around him. were constantly being threatened. That way, he would be forced to practice his machismo and panache, refining his heroic persona into a fine science.

Josh smiled when he thought that, and again, when he considered whether that was the reason that Derrin was constantly going on extraordinary, challenging expeditions. Sure, Derrin claimed that he was doing those things, because of the tech that he had developed, but Josh had trouble believe that this was the only reason.

After his required decontamination shower, which Archimedes had required from both himself and Derrin (even though neither of their suits had been compromised), Josh had returned to his bedroom, where he had changed his clothes again, just because he wanted to. There was an area for dirty laundry, directly next to his bed, and Josh placed the clothing in it. He remembered his own Maidbot with the short skirt and the feather duster, more for finesse than actual cleaning, and wondered if Archimedes would be wearing the same outfit. He had changed into relatively the same outfit, with oversized jeans and a vintage video game t-shirt, but since it was the same day, he did not think his fashion sense mattered all that much. Of course, judging from the outfit choices that the Illuminati had filled his closet with, maybe fashion had never really been his thing. Not that it mattered any longer, since he was now one of the best looking people on Earth. It had taken a global extermination just to give him a bit of self-confidence, but he was not going to think about that.

Walking from his bedroom, he thought about heading back to the library to pick up where he had left off before getting interrupted by Derrin, but decided that relaxation should probably take priority. This was, after all, his first day on a new planet, and there was no reason to overdo things. He turned, headed toward the common room, where he was almost certain that he would find Mikhail, sitting in front of the screen, watching reruns.

That did make him curious to think how long it would take for there to be original programing online. Surely, in the 100,000+ gifted people that the Illuminati put through The Sleepers program, at least a few of them must have been creative geniuses. Entertainment was such a big portion of what humanity was. With the technological advancements of the societies before the war, it likely would not take the centuries that it had taken, prior to the war, for them to create streaming video. Those odds were strengthened by the fact that elaborate tech already existed in Syracuse and the other bases. This string of thought brought up another length, though.

The last massive humanity purge would have been The Great Deluge, referenced in ancient mythology and scriptural texts. The enormous purge had been credited to On High (the gender-neutral name for Jehovah, El Shaddai, or simply God) or some other deity, whereas this one was humanity’s extermination of themselves. Josh humorously wondered if that would make Deucalion/Noah a member of The Illuminati, simply by association, through the preservation of humanity. Josh had long pursued a theory that, before the Great Deluge (which was a valid theory, as evidenced by the continental divisions, erosion records, and the first ice age), humanity had already been a technologically advanced society. There was, of course, not enough evidence to support that, beyond skepticism and theoretically rational thought, but the possibilities were still there. According to the proposed time-table, humanity had already been the dominant species on the planet for at least a thousand years before the Great Deluge. They could have developed technology to a substantial level in that time, in fact, it was really the only way to justify how Decalion could have survived for 40 days on a boat with representatives from every species of animal on Earth.

After the Great Deluge, humanity would have had to develop things from ground level again, similar to what they were doing now. It had taken them over a thousand years to just get past the point where they weren’t just basically bonking each other over the heads with big sticks because someone said that their god could beat up someone else’s god. After that, wars became much more civilized: then, conflicts evolved into arguments about whose chosen mate was more attractive, and which people thought that another people should be serving them as slaves. Maybe, if humanity could avoid petty squabbles over religion, land, and supremacy, society could actually advance at a faster rate.

That thought almost made Josh laugh out loud. He wasn’t sure which he thought was funnier: that thought that humanity might actually find a way to get along, or the idea that they could do so, while simultaneously building society. War and conflict had traditionally been used to inadvertently propel culture forward. Without conflict, humanity has a tendency to become complacent, allowing the hierarchy to remain in power without being questioned of challenged. That, of course, leads to periods like the Dark Ages, in which nothing gets accomplished and humanity regresses.

How long would it take for the first epic war to actually emerge?

Josh shook his head to clear his thoughts. Those thoughts were not the ones to be having at this point.

In his walk toward the common room, he passed the medical bay. Glancing in, he caught a glimpse of Tenzin’s back, as she slid from the examination table. The back of her gown was open and, while she was wearing panties beneath it, the fair, olive tint of her naked back sent chills down his spine. He stopped and stepped into the room. The automated whirr of the door opening caused Tenzin to jump and turn toward him. When her eyes met Josh’s, her lips curled into a pleasant smile.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” Josh said, his eyes dropping in embarrassment. “I was just walking past and I wanted to see how you were feeling.”

“Very well, thank you,” Tenzin admitted as she pulled on her slacks under her gown. “I apologize for anything that I may have said in my drugged state. Thank you, again, for aiding in the conflict and for transporting the body back to Syracuse.”

Josh shuffled his feet and shrugged. “It wasn’t much,” he tried to devalue his contribution. “I mean, you still got bitten. I’m sorry that I wasn’t fast enough to prevent that.”

“You saved my life,” Tenzin insisted, as she turned away from him. “I would hardly dismiss that so callously. I know that you’re attempting to diminish your contribution, but in this instance, you really should not.”

Josh was about to respond with a joke, but he froze when Tenzin removed the gown, in order to pull her blouse over her head. He did not see anything overly intimate, disregarding the casual glimpse of the underside of one breast, but the idea still made him feel as though he were a thirteen-year old boy, giggling at the idea of an actual woman’s body. Once the blouse was buttoned, she turned to him again, looking on him with warmth in her big, dark eyes.

Josh flushed, nodding to her. “It was my pleasure,” he said, nervously. “I’m glad that I was there for you. I hope that, in the future--”

“Joshua,” Tenzin stopped him, “just relax.”

Tenzin turned her back to him then, and continued to prepare herself. A million thoughts flushed through Josh’s head, as he swallowed his nerves, considering his situation. Dr. St. Crow, or Tenzin as she would more likely be okay with him calling her now, had never been the most affectionate individual. Her admitting to Josh that he had aided her, possibly saving her life, was the most vulnerable that he had ever known her to be. He reigned in his thoughts, knowing that right now was not the time to be pushing the boundaries of their relationship. Still, he could not stop himself from wondering if maybe, one day, she would be interested in taking his last name. That didn’t seem like something that she would submit to, especially when her accomplishments outmatched his, but he was Jewish. That was a good heritage!

It wasn’t until Tenzin turned back around that Josh realized how carried away he was getting with his thoughts. Tenzin smiled at him curiously, as if she was surprised that he was still present at all. “I would like to get to the lab,” she said, motioning to the door, “in order to start the dissection of the body.”

Josh nodded to her. His mind was telling him to interject with something like “the body will still be there later, you should take a moment to relax” or “perhaps you would like to spend some time together later,” but he could not get his mouth to say either of those things. “That sounds like a plan,” he coughed nervously. “Maybe, if you’d like, I could accompany you as you walk?”

The smile faded slightly, and Tenzin looked back at him cynically. “I believe that I could find my way alone,” she replied. “As long as you are walking that direction, though, I would not object to the company.”

Josh smiled at her cautiously. It was a different feeling, asking out a girl who could actually say no. While a short walk from med bay to lab was not much of a date, it still felt like a victory. Maybe, eventually, he would be able to work up the nerve to actually sit beside her in the common room, or walk with him through the arboretum/greenhouse, which (to his knowledge) none of them had yet explored yet. Things would progress naturally, he was sure. He just had to find a way to relax. Walking toward the lab, with Tenzin beside him, felt like a step in the right direction

VII

Mikhael was not in the common room. After reading as much as he could stomach, he had begun to form ideas with no foundation, making drastic leaps in a singular direction, before realizing that it was pointless for him to be doing so. There was nothing that he could do about the situation, at least not from the place where he was right now.

After leaving the library, he had wandered around the base, attempting to assess all the resources that were available to them. He was shocked at the mass of supplies which were provided. When he came to the arboretum, he paused and looked around himself cautiously. No one had been to the arboretum yet: he would be the first. He didn’t know whether to feel privileged, entitled, or guilty. Feeling some uncomfortable mixture of all three, he stepped to the door, and it opened with the signature sound. Stepping into the room, he looked around in surprise and not a little bit of wonder. Stretching for what looked like acres were plants, ferns, ivies, trees, fruits, and vegetables from many different varieties, with a well-defined path, curving it’s way through the garden. Mikhail was not a plant guy but, after seeing this lain out, that might have to change. The feeling of peace and serenity that he felt, simply by standing inside the arboretum, was unbelievable.

He heard a buzzing sound next to his ear, and he instinctively slapped at it. The insect landed on his hand and, before he could stop himself, he crushed it. Almost instantly, he was flush with feelings of horror.

“Вот дерьмо,” he gasped, examining the crushed body of the bug, still on the back of his hand, “vat have I done?”

“You have destroyed us all,” the droning voice of Archimedes informed him. “That was the last of a very specific race of fruit flies, carefully guarded and cultivated in this environment. Hidden within the body of that one specific fly was a formula that, single-handed, would have purified all of your cells, making you immune to any disease, and granted your bodies extreme strength and fortitude. Without it, you will be vulnerable, and you will die quickly in this new, untested world. Way to go.”

Mikhail turned to Archimedes, who was now standing beside him, with a cold stare. “You vould have made a good Russian,” he grumbled.

“It was a fly, Mr. Ruscov,” Archimedes said, as he puffed on his cigar and began to walk the path, through the foliage. “Try not to panic.”

Mikhail took Archimedes’ walk as a signal for him to follow. He hesitated at first, but decided that it would probably be useless to stand there by himself, simply to spite the machine. He would have explored, had Archimedes not shown up; his exploration was not compromised by the digitized inclusion.

“This is a beautiful garden,” Mikhail said, picking up his practiced American accent again, for the first time since leaving the sleeping cells.

“Would you like me to confirm your assessment?” Archimedes asked dryly, without breaking stride.

Mikhail shrugged as he stepped a bit faster to keep up with the program. “I was just making an observation,” he said, attempting to sound as confident as he probably should have felt. “I wonder, did you care for this area, the entire time that we were in cryostasis?”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Mikhail regretted saying them.

“No, of course not,” Archimedes said. “There’s a small team of gnomes who come by twice a week to do the weeding, and a flock of fairies who pollinate the flowers with their magic.”

Frowning, Mikhail tried to recover his feeling of superiority. He had become accustomed to being in the company of people that he was, at least culturally and aesthetically, actually superior to, and they were aware of that as much as he was. Archimedes did not seem to realize that, either because of his programing or because he was not actually inferior. That made communicating with him a process which Mikhail had to adjust to. He was beginning to feel as though he were the computer in this situation, readjusting his functional algorithms. In theory, he had always known that there were people who were on, or even exceeded his level of social/aesthetic prowess. Mikhail had simply never encountered one before.

Picking up his step, Mikhail caught up to walk beside Archimedes. “So,” he asked casually. “what types of produce are grown in this area?”

“The things that were native to this area, before the world ended,” Archimedes shrugged. “For trees, we’ve got white fur, velvet ash, and water birch; for shrubs and grasses, there’s saltgrass, chokeberry, galleta, and cliffrose. If you’re looking for fruits, there are pears, apples, strawberries, peaches; vegetables include turnips, onions, pea greens; herbs of--”

“I assume you are listing a very abbreviated inventory of the resources found in this garden,” Mikhail interrupted him. “This area seems far too vast to include only those selections.”

“It’s actually not,” Archimedes said. “I realize that it was centuries ago now but, back in the old world, entire areas of land, stretching for over 50 acres, were dedicated solely to the growth of a single crop, such as corn. They were called farms.”

“That seems a little self-defeating,” Mikhail frowned. “Humans cannot even completely digest corn.”

Archimedes paused between steps and turned to Mikhail with the arched eyebrow of confusion “You know what a farm is,” he cautiously asked “don’t you?”

“Vhat makes you tink dat I vould? I have heard of zem, but zhere is no reason zat I should know,” Mikhail countered. “Russia did not have zem any longer, un zay vere considered useless in our society. Zat being so, I paid very little mind to zheir study.”

“In this world, you may find that farming is a much more valuable skill than it was in the past,” Archimedes cautioned, his attention returning to path. “Anyway, I was being sarcastic with that comment about farms. The list I was providing for the contents of the arboretum was very condensed. If you would like me to list each living thing present, I am obligated to do so, but I would advice against it, since it would take several hours, and there’s already a list, uploaded into your Oracle.”

Mikhail took a moment to look around him. There were so many plants that he did not recognize, and each of them were so beautiful. The Russia that he remembered was cold and gray, overpopulated and completely industrialized. Nature could only be found in selected areas, and most of those had been replaced by artificial environments, set to simulate what nature had once been. He thought back to the fairy tales that his mama had told him of wonderlands and worlds that existed over rainbows. He felt as though he were living in one of those fantasies right now, surrounded by such exotic beauty. Reaching out, he touched the trunk of one of the trees, half-expecting it to dissipate under his touch. He was relieved to find that it did not. Moving his hand along the hard wood of the trunk, his fingers slid down a short branch, and to one of the deeply green leaves. It was alive, and Mikhail imagined that he could feel the life pulsing through the leaf, as blood flowed through veins. Mikhail marveled at the sensations that he felt. Thin, moist, and green. Green was not a sensation, exactly, but the color was so vibrant that it may as well have been.

“Mr. Ruscov,” Archimedes interrupted his meditation. “Would you like to continue the walk, or shall I allow you to further explore the textures of that boxelder tree?”

“Let’s continue walking,” Mikhail nodded. “Und tell me more about zhe valuable skill of farming.”

Archimedes sighed and began to walk. Mikhail stepped in line beside him, listening to the information that he related, trying not to feel like a child, sitting enraptured at his grandparent’s feet. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to learn new information. Where he had once felt intimidated, almost threatened, by Archimedes, he was beginning to see a use for the program. New information was absolutely something that would be needed, if he intended to be an intricate part of the world.

VIII

It had been such a busy day, Derrin had almost forgotten that he needed to sleep eventually. Josh came to the garage around 1 AM, to see what he was doing. Derrin looked up from his project, and had to stop himself from either laughing or screaming, and he ended up emitting only an embarrassing snort. Josh was dressed in black silk pajamas with purple pinstripes and puffy slippers. On his head was a sleeping cap and, had it not been for ridiculous image that it created, Derrin would have applauded his dedication to the role. The two of them briefly discussed the project which Derrin was been working on, and Josh admired his ingenuity. However, upon discussing the time, both Josh and Derrin agreed that the project would likely keep until the following morning.

Derrin came to his bedroom, stepping through the door and instructing the room to play Pink Floyd. He showered to the sounds of Houses of the Holy, washing the grease, grime, and shame of centuries lost from his body. Before he turned off the water, he watched as the disgusting mass swirled it’s brown filth down the powerful drain. Derrin doubted that he would ever be able to reconcile what had happened to the Earth, and what humanity had become after he had joined The Sleepers. The only solace that he could take was that he had not been present for the events. Of course, not being part of the problem did not necessarily mean that he was part of the solution.

Turning off the water, Derrin pulled a towel around his waist, and stepped to the mirror for a quick shave. Splashing warm water on his face, Derrin lathered up and ran the straight blade across his chin. Whole Lotta’ Love filled the speakers as he looked into his own eyes, trying to determine whether or not he was the hero Earth needed. If he were honest with himself, he was really not sure if he wanted to be. That, of course, would have been a thing to consider before committing to being part of the program. Now it was superfluous. He was the champion of the people, and he was just going to have to live with that.

He changed into a pair of plaid pants and a tank top, before telling the computer to lower the volume a bit and pulling a Fenius Creed thriller from the bookshelf, sliding into bed, and lowering the lights. He had only been reading for about ten minutes, and he was beginning to nod off, when he heard a soft knocking on his door. Confused, he slid out of bed, and signaled for the door to open. Claire stood on the other side, dressed in a peach negligee with a dipping neckline that hugged her curves. She looked up at him with a blush and innocent eyes.

“I’m having trouble sleeping,” she admitted with a shudder. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, I’m sorry, it’s just… every time I close my eyes, I’m scared that I won’t wake up again.”

Derrin lay a hand on her shoulder as she choked back tears, and guided her into his room. Once there, she collapsed into his chest and he held her as she cried.

“Would you mind if I slept beside you?” she asked, her face still buried in the fabric of his pajamas. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

Derrin was able to stop himself before he asked how Bart would feel about his girlfriend sleeping with another man. This was not the time to be jealous, this was the time to be a gentleman. The two of them lay together in bed, which was more than large enough for the two of them. Derrin was cautious about invading her space, until her hand met his under the covers, and she intertwined their fingers. Turning his head to face her, their eyes locked, and Derrin could see a blue mosaic painting, dripping from her iris; it was a beautiful work of art. Leaning in, his lips met hers, and the two of them shared a moment of intimacy. After the kiss, she rolled toward him, and lay her head on his chest. Derrin could feel her breasts heaving against him, and he had to remind himself that he was a gentleman, and that he was not going to take advantage of the situation.

“Please keep me safe,” Claire whispered with a sigh.

“Don’t worry,” Derrin whispered back, running his fingers down her back. “I’ll be your shining knight.”

Claire kissed his chest affectionately, and Derrin smiled. Sleep was still the same as it had always been: better when it’s next to someone that you care for.

Next Chapter: On Melodrama and It’s Immunity to Radioactivity