I

The light is comfortable. In fact, everything is comfortable right now. The only sensation that he can remember feeling at the moment was this: bathing in this soothing, warm, light, sensation slowly creeping back into his limbs. When enough feeling had returned, he could feel that his body was lying, supine, in a body pillow. He could move if he wanted to, but he could not imagine that any position he rolled into could be more comfortable. His eyes were closed right now, and he didn’t want to open them. Once his eyes were opened, the sensation would be ruined. He knew that he would need to move eventually. The time would come for him to open his eyes. He just wanted to stay in this moment for a few seconds longer. Once he opened his eyes, he knew that he would never be this comfortable again.

The lid of the compartment unsealed with a click, proceeded by the familiar, mechanical, whirr as it began to open. Derrin gasped in surprise and relief, as his lungs were filled with oxygen for what felt like the first time. He knew that, logically, it was not the first, nor even the millionth, breath that he had taken. He had been breathing regularly for his entire life, and he ought to be used to it. Still, the intoxicating refreshment of the clean air brought him a euphoric glee. Ironically, it reminded him of the first time that he had smoked a real cigar. He had smoked cigarettes in college, but when Suzette had complained, he transitioned to charging station cigars. There were a few months of that, training himself on how to avoid the secondary inhale, thus keeping the toxins out of his lungs. Finally, during his second year in grad school, his roommate had introduced him to a light cigar, containing Nicaraguan tobacco, with a Connecticut jacket. After that experience, Derrin had looked at cigars differently. He had not bought a gas station cigar since that awakening. Breathing the oxygen in the air right now felt similar to that; he never wanted to stop breathing it. Even the pause between breaths was too long an absence.

Derrin opened his eyes and sat up to examine his environment. He was in a circular black granite room with no distinctive features. Florescent lights, embedded in the wall of the chamber, soaked the room with their glow. At the opposite end of the room, there was a dark, door-sized opening, but Derrin could not see where it led. Next to the opening, there was a plaque, which displayed something that appeared to be a map. That was the only adornment in the entire room. No clock on the wall told him the time, no window showed him what the weather was like outside, no stereo to play Led Zeppelin on. Something in his brain told him that there was nothing to be worried about, but that small “something” was being shushed by the massive flood of panic which was preoccupying the rest.

A small commotion to his left caught his attention. Looking around, he took notice of the other cells, like the one that he had woken up in, around the room. The one on his right had opened, and the occupant had tripped getting out of it. Derrin frowned. The thought of getting out of his comfortable cell had not yet occurred to him, but he would probably need to do so eventually. Looking at the thin, bespectacled, young man who was currently picking himself up off the floor, Derrin considered that this was probably as a good a time as any.

Derrin stepped out of his cell carefully. It was on a slightly raised platform; if he hadn’t been paying attention, he likely would have tripped as well. Stepping to his fellow occupant, now standing and smoothing down the white, terrycloth robe he was clothed in, Derrin extended his hand.

“Hey,” he greeted him casually. “I’m Dr. Clarke. Do you--?”

“I know who you are, Derrin,” the man said as he continued to adjust his robe. “You’re the engineer.”

Removing his glasses, the man proceeded to clean them on the lapel of his robe. “It’s strange that you and I were the first two to wake up, isn’t it?” he muttered. “I kind of expected us all to come out of the freeze at the same time. I guess that would have been a bit of a clusterfuck, though.”

Derrin sized the new individual up quickly. He was shorted than Derrin was, with a chaotic mass of dark, brown hair on his head. Beneath the sleeves of his robe, Derrin could see the complex network of tattoos that covered his arms. With the longer that Derrin examined him, the stronger the feeling of confusion became. He knew this guy… he was sure that they had met. Still, he had no idea who this person was. A terrifying thought played with his mind for a fleeting moment: this must be what it’s like to go insane.

Taking in a deep breath, Derrin frowned deeply. “Who--” he began, haltingly. “What’s going on? Who are you?”

The man replaced his glasses, and looked at Derrin with a compassion. “I’m Joshua Stein,” he replied, finally accepting Derrin’s still-extended hand. “I’m the information guy, remember?”

The name was familiar, but Derrin still could not place it exactly. “No,” he grumbled. “Now are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Joshua dropped his gaze and hung his head, sighing heavily. “You know, they did tell us that memory might be more difficult on some of us than others,” he said, speaking as though Derrin should automatically know exactly what he was talking about. “I wasn’t expecting complete amnesia, but maybe it’ll just take some time for your mental processes to catch up.”

Derrin could not determine whether what his response should be. The tone with which this new figure was addressing him was casual, almost rude, but it wasn’t as if the statements that he was making were completely baseless: he was certainly out of his element at the moment. The things that Joshua was saying were sounding like madness. What caused Derrin a bit more discomfort was the fact that they were starting to sound familiar. His head was beginning to feel like it was going to explode, and he was starting to regret leaving the comfort of his cell. Joshua seemed to know exactly what was going on, which juxtaposed harshly with Derrin’s state of mind. Turning his back on Josh, Derrin began to examine the cell from which he had just emerged, searching desperately for some clue as to what was actually happening.

Joshua lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, which caused Derrin to jump and jerk away, responsively. Turning to see Josh’s reaction with frightened eyes, he was greeted with a compassionate and disarming stare.

“I’m going to check out that map on the wall by the staircase,” Josh reassured him. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave without you. Why don’t you stay here and see what you can remember, huh? If you still can’t recall anything in a couple minutes, I’ll explain it all.”

The hand slid from his shoulder, and Derrin heard Josh’s footsteps, shuffling away, across the room. Derrin’s eyes never left the cell as he frowned and bit his lower lip, trying desperately to remember. The cell was a state-of-the-art mechanism; well insulated with very little wear, as if it were brand new. On the inside of the lid, there was an air filtration system, connected to a blinking timer. Along the rim of the cell were monitors, which had apparently been calculating pulse and blood pressure, connected to processors, built into the base of the cell. Derrin gasped as he realized that this was a medical stasis cell. His mouth fell open and his eyebrows shot upward in shock, as he began to remember what was going on.

II

The doors to the lobby slid apart with a nearly inaudible hiss. Dr. Derrin Clarke walked through them, and looked around the location. It was not the first meeting room that he had been to, and there was very little variation about it to make it stand out, esthetically: there was the typical long table, with a large holographic platform in the center, surrounded by seven servo-chairs. The Coffee Maid™ floated around the room, depositing fresh brew in empty mugs, with the same mechanical whirr which was so common place now that the only time it was noticed was when it was absent. There was a skylight above the table, which still contained a few droplets of moisture from the night’s rain, and a view of the clearing sky.

What made this meeting room distinct was the company that was in the room already. Derrin raised his eyebrows in surprise. There were only four other people in the room, all but one of which he was familiar with. Of the people that he knew, however, he noticed that each of them shared a common property with himself: each of them were at the top of their individual fields. He analyzed the situation, trying to formulate a way to enter the community. It seemed as though most of the members had already pared off into conversational partners.

“Hello, Dr. Clarke,” a soft voice over his shoulder greeted him. Derrin smiled as the familiar scent of honeysuckle and lemon wafted over his shoulder. He turned to see the greeter standing behind him: a young, lady with delicate features and fashionable, shoulder-length blond hair.

“Claire Roux,” he chuckled, extending a hand to his infrequent collaborator. “How was traffic?”

Dr. Roux snickered politely at the dated joke. “They couldn’t take the sky from me,” she replied with the standard nomenclature.

Neither he nor Claire were anywhere near old enough to remember bad traffic, really, aside from what they had heard in history lectures and seen in period cinema art films. It had been a dark chapter in humanity’s history, apparently. Those who drove cars, which was almost everyone, would often be forced to sit for hours without moving more than a few feet in their commute to work each day. This lead to a mental disorder that modern psychologists referred to as vehicular primordia. Victims of this disease would experience a regression to their most basic human emotions. They would become agitated toward other drivers, often swearing, making lewd gestures, and (in the most extreme cases) becoming violent. Things began to change in the year 2025, when Toyota (then, simply a car company) introduced the first fully-automated car, driven completely by GPS, with sensors to read the traffic lights (rudimentary devices, designed to tell the driver when to stop and when to go), along with the proximity of other vehicles. Within thiry years, all human-driven vehicles were recalled and replaced by automated versions.

The “how was traffic?” joke came shortly after that. Since there was no longer a need to complain about traffic, neither was there a purpose in asking about the commute.

“So,” Derrin asked, scanning the room for faces that he recognized “do you have any idea what we’ve been called here for?”

Claire appeared to be scanning the room as well. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “I see Mikhail Ruscov and Tenzin St. Crow, both Nobel laureates . You remember them, right? Ruscov was the political scientist who wrote the paper on the effects of consumerism on diplomacy, which was credited as instrumental in the reestablishment of Russia’s czarist republic.”

Derrin nodded. “I read it twice,” he said. “He had some incredible things to say. A lot of his sources were redundant, but his original thoughts showed a lot of insight into the human mind. Dr. St. Crow was involved with the cloning of clean cells, right?”

“It was deeper than that, but essentially, yes,” Claire replied. “Her research was one of the biggest factors in the replacement of cancer cells, and she’s probably the reason that life expectancy is now close to 120 years.”

Derrin cringed a bit. “I’m feeling a little outmatched, all of a sudden,” he admitted.

Claire had to stand on her toes and reach upward, in order to swat the back of his head. “You’re a world-renowned survivalist!” she chided him. “Ruscov and St. Crow may have the fancy achievements, but neither of them could have excavated the ruins of San Francisco Proper. Plus, did they not make a movie about your journey through the Inca tombs?”

Derrin chuckled. “I made a movie about the machines that I built for the trip,” he corrected her. “It would have been a boring educational film for mechanical engineering students, if some director hadn’t seen it and decided to revise it, making me into the next action film star.”

Claire opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted when the holographic table sprang to life. “We’re pleased to see that the seven of you could be here,” a nondescript human head with an androgynous voice said in an unemotional tone, filling the room with its specific brand of neutrality. “If you could all take a seat around the table, we’ll discuss the purpose for this meeting.”

Derrin looked at Claire, who shrugged, and began to approach the table as instructed. Derrin stepped behind an empty seat, and it spun away from the table, waiting for him to occupy it. He did so, and the seat returned to it’s place, facing the table. The homogenized head did very little to comfort him. Also, he had read enough classic literature to know what happens when a singular entity refers to themselves with plurality, Derrin stared at the talking head, as it spun on it’s axis, looking at all the occupants. 20th century song lyrics began to dance through his head: “We’re on the road to nowhere; come on inside.”

Talking Heads… cute.

III

Derrin stepped away from the stasis chamber, fighting off the sudden wave of dizziness that threatened to knock him over. He now had a grim, relative, idea of what was going on. Every part of him wanted to curl back up in the chamber where he had been comfortably resting less than ten minutes ago, close his eyes, and go back to the state of peaceful naivety that he had been enjoying. The swimming voices in his head told him that this wasn’t going to possible.

On shaking knees, Derrin turned to look toward Stein, who was engrossed with the map by the staircase. Joshua Stein had, in his time, been a world-class cartographer and geologist. Derrin remembered examining his map of the theoretical Old Atlantis, based on landmarks and abnormalities found on the ocean floor. It had been the first irrefutable evidence of Atlantis’ existence, outside of mythology. Of course, the housing company who purchased the rights to build a complex under the sea, using his map as a blueprint, had not really been interested in the anthropological impact.

“This is painful to look at,” Joshua was grumbling as he examined the map, as if he were talking to himself, but intentionally loud enough for Derrin to overhear the conversation. “They should have contacted me before they drafted it; I could have done something better than this in less than twenty minutes.”

Derrin sighed. “The world is gone,” he gasped, hardly believing the words that came out of his mouth “isn’t it?”

Joshua nodded distractedly. “That’s what we’ve been told,” he muttered. “The king is dead: long live the king.”

Derrin looked around the room at the other stasis chambers. With his memories returning, he knew each of the occupants. Stepping to Claire Roux’ chamber, he ran his fingers across the top, wondering how long it would take for her to come out of her sleep. He could see her through the chamber lid, eyes closed peacefully, clothed in the same terrycloth robe that he and Josh were wearing. Watching her made him feel strangely jealous and excessively lonely. While he had never thought of her in a romantic sense before, disregarding the instinctive response that every heterosexual man has toward an attractive woman, he wanted nothing more than to be lying next to her in cryostasis, oblivious to everything to her presence. She was now the only friend that he had left. That thought would have made him feel as though he was being melodramatic if it hadn’t likely been true. He wanted her to wake up, so maybe he wouldn’t feel so alone.

Josh’s voice made him jump, since he hadn’t noticed him approaching. “Look, red,” he said, abruptly yanking Derrin out of his own head, “there’s really nothing to do down here, except wait for the others to wake up. Personally, I’m hungry, so I’m going to see what’s at the top of these stairs. The map says that there’s a kitchen, and in my imagination, there’s a large stock of Fruity Blasts dry cereal. You can stay down here waiting for Snow White to come out of her sleep, but I think you’d have more fun if you came with me.”

Derrin nodded, mentally shaking some of the cobwebs out of his head. “Right,” he replied. “That actually sounds like a good idea.”

“You don’t have to sound so shocked,” Josh laughed as he turned toward the staircase. “I may not be the reincarnation of Tesla, or whatever that periodical called you, but I am fairly smart.”

“That wasn’t what I--” Derrin began as he hurried to catch up with Josh. “Wait, which article called me that?”

“I’m just fucking with you, red,” Josh answered him. “Relax, and let’s go explore this ’brave new world’.”

Derrin followed Josh to the staircase, sparing a look at the map before ascending. He had been right in his assessment, of course: the map was fairly rudimentary. The only thing that really stuck out to him was title, inscribed boldly underneath the legend. He assumed it was the name of the location. They were in Syracuse.

IV

Joshua Stein knew some stuff, but not nearly as much as he was pretending to. Derrin’s brief amnesia had given him a rare chance to feel like an intellectual equal, with something beneficial to contribute. Before the six of them had become “The Sleepers”, which was what the organization behind the program had called them, Josh would never have thought to seek camaraderie with any of these people. Dr. Clarke, in particular, was someone who he had looked up to, studying his designs and reading his lectures with fascination. Of course, when they had first met, Josh had mentioned none of that, choosing to play along with the illusion. Derrin, of course, acknowledged him casually, remarking on how impressive his mythological map had been. Josh had shaken his hand, and remarked on seeing the film that was based on him, remaining calm the entire time. In his head, he had been screaming and cheering like those fanbots on Planet Disney, but he had not allowed that to show. Now, with the large, redheaded, hulking man following him up the stairs, it was difficult to remember that this was the same man whom he had so looked up to. Josh should likely not be enjoying this as much as he was, but Dr. Clarke (Derrin… get used to calling him Derrin) had been such an idol. It felt kind of nice to be the one with the knowledge now.

That, of course, didn’t change anything: he still didn’t know nearly as much as he was pretending to.

According to the amateurish map, this staircase lead into a common room, of sorts. Based on the crude dimensions provided on the map, it was the largest room in the complex. As he walked up the steps, Josh began to have visions of what the room was going to look like. Of course, the images that he was seeing were unrealistic, to the point of being ridiculous. That was how he tended to function, though. He would create a world in his mind that looked like it was designed by MC Escher, then he would scale it back slowly, conforming it to whatever stupid, boring, reality actually existed. That was what had made working on the map of Atlantis so appealing: he could make reality anything that he wanted to, provided he threw enough professional sounding language into the presentation to make people believe that he knew what he was talking about. The map had gotten more attention than he was comfortable with. He had been very happy with the money, of course, and the notoriety, but having to prove that he knew as much as he claimed became complicated.

He could see the door at the top of the steps now. Brave new world… he had never actually read Aldous Huxley.

Josh reached the top of the steps, which ended in a small plateau, leading up to a steamed glass door. Through the door, Josh could see the outlines of what the room contained, but he couldn’t make out exact items.

“I wonder if this is what the first men on the moon felt like,” Derrin muttered, as he reached the area a few seconds later.

“I doubt Neil Ulrich ever felt anything quite this surreal,” Josh sighed. “At least, after his moon walk, he got to go home.”

“Neil Armstrong,” Derrin corrected him. “Lars Ulrich played drums in the band Metallica.”

Josh rolled his eyes toward the sloped ceiling: “Neil ARMSTRONG was the guy with the ’one small step’ line, right?”

Derrin nodded his confirmation.

Josh advanced on the door, and laid his hand on the frame. “One final leap for mankind,” he said as he opened the latch.

He had always hated how melodramatic he became when he was terrified.

V

The door opened with a smooth whoosh the moment that Joshua placed his hand on it. The movement was so smooth and startling that he almost fell through the barrier. Derrin stopped himself from chuckling a bit as he followed his fellow explorer into the common room. He froze when his feet felt the plush carpeting. It felt as though he had just stepped onto a cloud. He looked around the room with awe. In his vivid imagination, he had never been expecting to see a room like this.

The room that he had woken up in had been dry and characterless, with no defining marks. This room was the exact opposite. It was round, like the sleeping chamber, but the similarities ended there. There were three doors, including the one from which he and Josh had just emerged, with the other two on opposite sides. The walls were a muted, comfortable, shade of desert stucco, while the carpeting was a deep brown espresso. Three dark purple couches and two cream easy chairs were placed in the semi-circle, around a black slate table. The far wall, facing the door, looked like a gigantic picture window, although it seemed to be showing images of a tropical rainforest. In one corner, rising from the floor and designed in practically the same shade as the carpet, was a bar with a black marble top, and three bar stools sitting in front of it. Derrin quickly prayed to a god that he didn’t really believe in that there was alcohol behind it. He was probably going to need quite a bit of that.

Stepping up beside him, Josh breathed in deeply. “This place has that ’new car’ smell,” he observed.

Derrin nodded. “It’s the furniture,” he said, pointing. “They’re leather.”

“A brilliant observation, Dr. Clarke,” a new voice entered the scene, causing both Josh and Derrin to jump and look in the direction that the sound had come from. There, standing behind the bar, was a man who had not been there moments before. He was tall and thin, dressed in a three-piece Italian suit, with sleek black hair, combed away from his strong forehead. His dark eyes, high cheek bones, and sharp nose betrayed a western European origin, and his thin lips looked as though he had never smiled before. He ran his hand across the bar as he stepped out from behind it, and began to approach the two of them.

“Perhaps you would also like to inform Mr. Stein that the walls are orange and the carpet is brown?” he continued his jibe. “Or, perhaps, you’d like to say that neither of you have any idea what’s going on right now? Those things seem to be equally obvious statements that you should make.”

“Or, maybe,” Josh retorted “he could say that we have no idea who the hell you are, or how you came to be here. There’s also the question of why we’re not kicking your ass right now.”

The man snorted condescendingly and smirked. He snapped his fingers, and a cigar appeared in his hand. “The reasons for why you shouldn’t try to kick my ass are innumerable, Mr. Stein,” he replied, as he lit his cigar with a torch that he pulled from the pocket of his blazer. “First of all, you’re both wearing bath robes, while I’m fully dressed. I know from your files that the only one amongst your number with any martial arts training is Dr. St. Crow, and since she’s not here, I don’t feel threatened. There’s also the issue that I’m the only one who knows anything about the world right now, so it would probably work out in your favor if you didn’t try to harm me.”

The man finished lighting his cigar, placed it in his mouth, inhaled, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Finally,” he continued, “and perhaps I should have lead with this, but you are physically incapable of kicking my ass. I’m not actually here.”

Snapping his fingers once more, the man disappeared. Josh and Derrin both looked at each other in confusion for a moment, before Derrin figured it out.

“He’s a computerized projection,” Derrin sighed, slapping his forehead and feeling like a dullard or not figuring it out sooner.

“Wow, Dr. Clarke, you are really good at that,” the man’s voice came out of nowhere, a moment before he reappeared in the exact location from which he had vanished. Josh and Derrin instinctively jumped back, as the hologram took another draw from his cigar. “Seriously, if they gave a doctorates for stating completely unnecessary and obvious information, you could have undoubtedly gotten a tenure at the most prestigious of universities.”

“You can call me Archimedes,” the man informed them, as he walked toward the couches, seating himself in the center of the middle one, facing the table. “I am, for all intents and purposes, both the heart and the brain of this location, henceforth referred to as Syracuse.”

Derrin frowned, and looked out the picturesque window: “This doesn’t look like New York.”

Josh shook his head. “Sicily,” he said. “Archimedes was a Greek astronomer from Syracuse, Sicily around 200 BC.”

Archimedes nodded, “287 to 212, to be precise. Before you ask, no, we’re not in Sicily either. The closest approximation that you would recognize is Salt Lake City, Utah, although it hasn’t actually gone by that name in 483 years. Come, sit with me, and I will share with you a tale of woe and tragedy, unlike any ever told: I will tell you how the world ended.”

Derrin considered asking how it was that a digital projection could interact with physical items the way that he did, but it hardly seemed to be the most pressing of questions. Archimedes motioned to the adjacent couches. Derrin and Josh looked at each other, and Josh shrugged. They moved to where Archimedes was motioning, and sat down. Derrin had a sickening feeling that he already knew what was going to be said.

VI

The lecture had been long and laborious, especially considering that it was given by a holographic head, with very few pauses for questions. Mikhail Ruscov had quite a few of those, but he had never been given the chance to ask them. The evidence that the head had provided seemed irrefutable, and it had been phrasing his statements as though they were facts, rather than theoretic scenarios. Still, some of the figures that he had provided seemed questionable. Mikhail knew that they would come to be eventually, but the time table provided gave Mikhail a bit of pause.

He knew from his study of human behavior that this was where the world had been headed for the past 1200 years, ever since the military started using scientific discovery to destroy things. No matter what happens, everything descends into entropy. He was fortunate that this occurred, actually. Without that idea, he likely would not have a career.

The large, androgynous, head had vanished about five minutes ago, and the six individuals who had been invited to the meeting were still digesting all the information that had been provided.

“So,” Mikhail cautiously ventured to speak first, carefully hiding his Russian accent “I suppose the Illuminati really do exist.”

Joshua Stein looked up at him with a quizzical expression: “That’s what you took away from this, pretty boy?”

Mikhail shook his head, attempting to keep his emotions at bay. “Vell (ahem) well, of course there were other things, but those seemed too intense to use as ice breakers.”

“Let’s review what we know,” Dr. Bartholomew Fredrix muttered in an attempt to redirect the conversation into a more productive direction. “The six of us, respected individuals in our own fields, each received a summons, telling us to attend this meeting. Once we got here, the holohead appeared, informing us that it represented the Illuminati.”

“--who, up until now, were a clandestine organization that I’d venture to suggest none of us really believed existed,” Mikhail interrupted.

“Yes,” Bart (Mikhail had already begin referring to him as Bart in his mind) nodded. “They’ve been discussed by conspiracy groups for centuries, but no solid proof of their existence has ever been provided. Now, the head tells us that their true agenda is ensuring the preservation of humanity, which is being threatened right now.”

“That threat has yet to be verified,” Dr. Derrin Clarke objected. “We have only the head’s information on that topic, and there has been no solid proof that a nuclear holocaust is on the horizon.”

“The United Front of Janzoon,” Dr. Tenzin St. Crow offered softly.

“Australia,” Dr. Roux nodded. “Ever since they changed their name and political structure about a decade ago, they’ve been becoming increasingly unruly and secretive about the actions in their country. They have been building a wall around and over their landmass, segregating it from the rest of the world. Perhaps they have a reason for this.”

“The reason is zat they are pretentious assholes,” Mikhail retorted.

“Or, perhaps they know something that we do not,” Tenzin replied.

Mikhail had admired Tenzin’s work in biology for years, but now that he was meeting her face-to-face, he was admiring her for an entirely different reason. Her ivory skin and raven hair, combined with her dark eyes and full lips, made it appear as though she had been crafted from fine china. He had watched her gait as she had walked into the room, and the way that she moved suggested that she had dance training, and her frame appeared limber and athletic. She was slightly shorter than Mikhail preferred his conquests to be, standing perhaps 5’8”. in this instance, however, he was prepared to make an exception.

He was very well aware that the way he was sizing her up was crude, barbaric, and borderline-sociopathic. Mikhail justified it to himself by remembering that he had appreciated her research before her body. Still, he was attracted to her, and he already knew that she was attracted to him. Women always were.

“We have six months to come up with an answer,” Derrin stated, bringing the conversation back into focus. “Maybe something will happen in that time to make our decision easier.”

“Exploding kangaroos in the One World Capital building would send quite a message,” Joshua Stein joked.

Mikhail chuckled. His decision had already been made: if the world was going to end, he wanted to help rebuild it. Besides that, he liked the idea of spending more time with Dr. St. Crow.

VII

Derrin and Joshua sat, enraptured despite themselves, by Archimedes’ recount of the final war.

“We still have very little information on who threw the first punch, figuratively speaking,” he began. “All we know was that three, nearly simultaneous, nuclear strikes were perpetrated in upper Canada, central Europe, around the area where Poland used to be, and southern Africa. Things escalated quickly after that, with no one taking credit for the attacks, but everyone pointing their fingers at someone else. The presidents of both Northern and Southern America quickly declared that nuclear power should be heavily decreased or eliminated completely, which caused the American people in both provenances to panic and scream foul. Militant groups of hackers and cybernetic terrorists took this as an attack against their rights, and soon, a civil war erupted in the streets, both online and offline. During this entire time, the radiation from the original attacks had continued to spread, almost unchecked. Containment crews were almost useless, since most found that their equipment was insufficient under the conditions.

“About 17 months after the first strike, two additional bombings took place, this time in Southern America and Northern Asia. At this point, the entire world was panicking, searching not only for the culprits, but for a way to rectify the damage. I’ll spare you the details, since you’re not here for a history lesson. It would be sufficient to say that, within two years, Canada was blaming England, the Americas were blaming each other, virtually everyone else was blaming the Mideast Union, and the world was ravaged with chaos. Then, after seven years of madness, the final strike was perpetrated.

“This one was a nuclear carpet bombing of virtually all the heavily populated areas of the world. This one --”

“Hold on a minute,” Josh interrupted Archimedes, holding up his hand like a student in class. “You’re saying that the world was pretty much destroyed, right? The Illuminati, who I’m assuming you were programmed by, knew about the attack long before it happened. How could they not know who started things, and in a related topic, why didn’t they do anything to stop it from happening in the first place?”

Archimedes frowned, nodding. “Those are very good questions,” he said, after a moment’s reflection. “It is curious that a clandestine group with under a million members could not do anything to stop a covert, well coordinated, multiple nuclear strikes. It’s also ponderous that they did not announce their disputed existence to respected world leaders, supplying nonexistent evidence to established politicians, as to the culprits. It’s also a crime, now that I think of it, that they didn’t charge out onto the streets, wielding peace signs and white doves, in order to stop the riots and madness which the war produced. In fact, one could say that this entire kerfuffle was their fault!”

Josh sighed and sank back into his seat. “You’re being sarcastic,” he noted.

“Extremely,” Archimedes confirmed. “The Illuminati have existed for multiple millennium, operating in secrecy, with the sole purpose of preserving humanity, usually taking actions in order to protect humans from themselves. You were a result of them taking those actions.”

“Vell, zat is fascinating,” a new voice, complete with a heavy Russian accent, graced their ears. “Could you, maybe, have waited until we were all present before you began to explain zhe situation?”

Both Derrin and Josh looked toward the voice, which came from the door that lead to the chambers. Standing there was a tall, slim man, with long, dark blond hair, piercing, blue eyes, and a stern look on his handsome face. Following him was Claire Roux and, upon seeing her, Derrin jumped from the couch. He advanced on her quickly, stopping short of sweeping her into his arms like a long-lost lover, containing himself to only a hug.

Claire returned the hug tightly. “I’d suggest that maybe we’re being too intimate,” she said, her face buried in his chest, “but based on what we just over heard, intimacy is least among our problems.”

“I do hope that you are not expecting to hug me as vell,” the Russian said in an icy tone, but with a slight touch of humor thrown in for flavor. “Intimacy has yet to be a problem for me in at any stage, but I usually prefer it with people who are significantly more attractive than you.”

Derrin released Claire from the embrace, and nodded to the Russian. “Good morning to you as well, Ruscov.”

In their six months of preparing for this project, Derrin had only really become familiar with a handful of his fellow sleepers, among those being Claire (who he had already counted as an associate), Bart, and Mikhail. They had analyzed the situation, discussed options, and shared ideas. Of the six parties, only two of them were without doctorates: Mikhail and Joshua. Derrin understood why Josh had been added to the group, since a new world would probably require a good cartographer, but he had his doubts about Mikhail’s inclusion. It was clear that they would eventually need a governmental system, and a specialist in political science and sociology made sense, but that seemed pretty low on the priority list, at least when the world was just beginning. Add to that Ruscov’s polarizing personality, complete with condescension, elitism, and chauvinism (which, when combined, kind of made him a complete dickbag), and Derrin’s doubts about him seemed justified. While he, Bart, and Claire seemed to be a good fit, Mikhail was unwilling to work with anyone who did not either worship him and his ideas, or who he did not want to sleep with. The only justification that Derrin could make was genetic diversity. He was Anglican, Bart was African, Claire was Caucasian, Josh was Jewish, Tenzin was Tibetan, and Mikhail was Russian. The diversity wasn’t complete, and Derrin wondered if the Illuminati could not have found an equally qualified Arabian or Native American who would have been a better fit, but the decision had not been his to make. After Derrin got used to his jarring social faux pas, he found that he could appreciate Mikhail’s insight a bit and, when he could not, Derrin simply ignored him.

“If the three of you would like to join us,” Archimedes called out to them “I would like to continue with the tale of humanity’s great tragedy. If you would like me to begin again, I have that ability, but --”

“-- Ze Earth is dead,” Mikhail interrupted him as he, Derrin, and Claire walked to the couches and joined Josh, sitting across from Archimedes. Derrin sat between Claire and Josh, and he was surprised when Claire placed her hand on his leg. It was a welcome sensation, and Derrin translated it as a need for added security. He forced himself not to have a reaction, but the thought that he had not been with a woman, sexually, in over half a century did creep into his mind.

“That’s incorrect, Mr. Ruscov,” Archimedes replied, with a cocky, self-assured smirk. “Humanity is practically dead, or at least seriously endangered, but the Earth is fine. While you four were sleeping, I have been awake, monitoring the environment. Radiation levels reached an acceptable level, slightly over 100 years ago. Since that time, the Earth and it’s ecosystem has repaired and begun to rebuild itself. It isn’t the Earth that you remember, obviously, but it is your home now. Each of you was selected, because of the unique skill set that you’ll be able to bring to restructuring. Dr. Clarke, your inclusion is based on both your mechanical engineering abilities and survival skills. Dr. Roux, your medical training will likely be invaluable to the success of this project. Mr. Stein, you will—”

“I’m here to make maps and gather information,” Josh said, with a roll of his eyes. “Ruscov’s probably here to, I don’t know, be an asshole?”

Mikhail laid a hand on Josh’s shoulder, causing him to jump and squirm away. “You are a very tiny man, aren’t you?” he asked, chuckling.

“Mr. Ruscov is here for social purposes and, eventually, the political aspects of the new world,” Archimedes resumed his briefing. “Syracuse is a fully equipped base, and I will make sure that your every need is provided for. As you are all still in your robes, I suggest that you first find your way to the bedrooms, where you will find wardrobes, specifically tailored to your individual tastes and dimensions. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had about as much of this pleasantness as I can take, so I’m going to go… do something else entirely.”

With that, Archimedes vanished. Claire yelped a bit in surprise, tightening her hold on Derrin’s calve briefly, while Mikhail scowled and stared at the area where he had formerly been seated.

“He is a computer, yes?” Mikhail asked after a moment of dumbfounded blinking.

“A rather obnoxious one at that,” Josh replied, nodding.

Derrin turned his head to look at Claire, who did the same toward him. In her eyes, he could see fear and intrigue, and maybe a bit of excitement at the prospect of the new project. Of course, he may as well have been staring at his own reflection. This was indeed a brave new world, and he was one of the first colonists. For the second time since waking up, he prayed to an unnamed god, asking that it would have mercy on their souls.

VIII

The doors on either side of the common room lead into a circular hallway. Claire already knew that, since she had seen and memorized the map.

She found her bedroom, clearly marked with her full name and title, adjacent to Joshua Stein on one side and a short hallway. Claire noticed that whomever had designed this complex had possitioned her quarters directly next to the medical bay, assuming that she would be the medical professional here, and placing her so close to the bay. The placement made logical sense, since the entire reason that she was in this project was for her medical prowess. It took nothing away from her identity, being assigned an apartment, rather than choosing her own. All it did was give her better access to her department.

Opening the door revealed a comfortably large room, more the size of a studio apartment than a bedroom. Claire looked over the area and quickly cataloged the inventory. This was quite obviously a room, designed for her, since everything about it seemed to have programmed to make her feel comfortably at home, from the bright, energetic colors, to the slightly exaggerated natural lighting, to the shelf of Steven King novels on the bookcase. Taking a deep breath, Claire closed the door to the hallway, shed the awful robe which had made her feel exposed, no matter how she sat, and walked toward the washroom. The glass door slid open politely, welcoming her to the room. As she entered the tiled room, she paused, frowned, and decided to test a theory.

“Play soft jazz music,” she commanded the atmosphere.

The air was quickly filled with the sounds of upright bass and saxophone. Claire smiled as she walked toward bathtub. Maybe this place wouldn’t be that bad. After all, everything looks better when one is listening to jazz music.

It’s strange, how something can appear so exotic and innovative in one’s mind, but when it actually occurs, it just seems oblique and surreal. Claire thought about that extensively as she bathed. The situation which she had been presented with at the initial meeting had seemed decent enough, a logical approach to upcoming tragedy, a “break glass in case of emergency” reaction. Now that it had actually happened, the idea of six people (there had to be other people, elsewhere in the world, they wouldn’t have placed the entire fate of the planet in the hands of six people) rebuilding the world seemed insurmountable, nigh impossible. Claire was wondering how she had ever thought this was a good plan, and something that she wanted to be involved with. She was already starting to miss the world that she had left behind.

Scrub the centuries off of her legs: she would never be able to walk to the old fashioned coffee house on the corner of her street again. No more croissants, no more single-origin Brazilian Peaberry, no more cute, college boy with a wide-smile and cheerful demeanor to serve her. There was likely coffee in Syracuse, but somehow, it didn’t feel the same.

Run shampoo and conditioner through her hair: she would never address a room of anxious med school students again. There would never be another annoying coed, asking her redundant questions which were clearly covered in the syllabus. She would never have the satisfaction of helping a struggling student finally grasp the concepts that they were having trouble with. There would never be a “less attractive than they thought they were” kid, seeking to avoid a failing grade by seducing her. Mikhail might flirt with her sometimes, but it wouldn’t feel the same.

Rinse the soap off of her torso: she would never get to feed or pet her dog again. That was something that Syracuse could never replicate.

Stepping from the shower, she allowed the heated air to dry her off, as she stood in front of the full length mirror and examined her body. Claire allowed herself to smile at a random, slightly shallow thought: for being over 500 years old, she looked damn good. Yes, getting lost in nostalgia was a logical occurrence, psychologically speaking. Still, maybe it was time to live in the moment. After all, she was building a new world.

Opening her closet, Claire found a wide variety of clothing, ranging from formal to casual. After slipping into panties and a surprisingly comfortable bra, she chose to wear a pair of jeans and a comfortable t-shirt. There was no need to explore the classier elements of her new wardrobe. She wasn’t really in the mood, anyway.

The door slid open, as she expected it to. Claire walked out, turning down the hall in order to return to the common room.

IX

“Archimedes, are you there?”

“Of course I’m here; where else would I be? How can I help --”

“Shh, listen, if I ask you something, could you possibly keep it between us?”

“My programing stipulates that I reveal perceived threats to the entire group. As long as what you ask from me doesn’t pose a threat to the safety of the unit, or any of the individual member of said unit, I see no reason to expose our conversational topics. Although, I must admit that you asking me to keep this conversation private does kind of send up some red flag.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m not going to ask you anything compromising. I just want to get some information without causing too much panic or having to deal with interruptions, justifications, or distraction.”

“I suppose that’s logical, as well as consistent with both your station and personality template.”

“Wait, what? My personality template? What does that even – you know what, it doesn’t matter. You said that it’s been five hundred years since the bomb dropped right? How has the base been operating at full power this entire time?”

“Well, for the first three-hundred years, the base only required auxiliary power, since it’s only purpose was to keep six of you safe and comfortable. After that, the solar panels turned back on, and began to collect energy from the sun, which was remarkably undamaged by the war. I was activated a hundred years ago, and I have been maintaining the base and it’s operations since then.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds reasonable. Are we six the only people in this operation?”

“How could The Illuminati have expected six people to repurpose the entire world? They may be a disturbing and chauvinistic organization, but they’re not illogical. Besides, that would be asking quite a bit from Dr. Roux and Dr. St. Crow.”

“Well, you didn’t mention any other structures! What was I supposed to think?”

“Are you holding me responsible for your own assumptions?”

“All right, that’s a fair point, but it still would have been polite to volunteer that information. How many people are members of this project?”

“Approximately 144,000.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t make the rules, I just play by them.”

X

Derrin walked back into the common room, dressed in a plain gray t-shirt underneath a tweed blazer, khaki pants, and penny loafers. Business casual had seemed appropriate for the moment. Derrin had been confused by the selections in his wardrobe, especially the choice of exotic, island patterns. They were things that he would have worn, of course, but only on rare occasions. It seemed odd that The Illuminati would supply him with those, since they weren’t exactly clothing choices that he would have missed. He chose not to think too deeply about it, though; there were plenty of other things to contemplate.

As he reentered the room, he saw that Joshua was there, still clothed in his robe. Tenzin St. Crow and Bartholomew Freddrix were also there, talking to Archimedes. Josh looked up as he entered and nodded an acknowledgment. Making his way to the seating area, Derrin sat down in one of the chairs. Bart looked to him with a soft smile.

“Quite a predicament we’ve gotten ourselves into, huh?” he asked, nonchalantly.

Derrin laughed at the casual over-simplification. “That’s one way of putting it,” he replied.

“Humanity has finally accomplished what it’s been attempting to do since the beginning of time,” Tenzin debated with Archimedes. “We’ve managed to destroy ourselves.”

“On the bright side,” Josh interjected “there’s probably peace in the Middle East now.”

Tenzin slowly turned her head toward him, revealing her signature no-nonsense look, which seemed to be a mix of apathy, annoyance, and pity. Derrin had been privy to this look once or twice himself. He and Bart used to joke that, if you stared at it too long, you would either turn to stone or burst into flame, depending on what she desired. It was easy to underestimate Tenzin at first. She looked more like an Asian model than a world-renowned scientist, with her fit, athletic body, the soft, caramel tone of her skin, her dark, silken, hair, and her bottomless, almond, eyes. A brief, three-minute conversation with her would reveal that she was not a woman to be trifled with, and that she was way out of anyone’s league, intellectually speaking. That was probably why she rarely bothered to have conversations with people, keeping her thoughts mostly to herself.

“Would you also like to comment on how India no longer has a housing problem?” Tenzin asked Josh, daring him to continue with his casual outlook.

Josh dropped his eyes, and opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again when no comment came.

“Dr. St. Crow, may I suggest that you relax a bit?” Archimedes advised her, to the surprise of everyone present. Tenzin returned a surprised look to Archimedes, raising her eyebrows curiously.

“Humanity has been massacred, yes,” Archimedes continued. “There’s nothing that any of us can do about that now, except rebuild. While the situation is extremely dire, each individual will react to the situation differently. Humor is an almost exclusively human trait, so therefore, there is not enough of it in the world at the moment. While Mr. Stein’s joke may have been in poor taste, it was made in good fun, in order to add levity to a bad situation.”

“I’m Jewish,” Josh muttered meekly. “The Middle East and bad jokes are kind of my things.”

Tenzin nodded to Josh, which was the closest thing to an apology that Derrin had ever seen from her. He was impressed. Granted, Archimedes was still condescending, but he was probably the only one among them that could approach situations rationally.

Mikhail entered the room then, dressed in a fashionable suit, his hair flowing and bouncing with reckless abandonment. It was not clear as to whom he was attempting to impress, or if this was simply his everyday swagger, but the smell of expensive cologne created an envelope of aroma around him. He smiled confidently as he approached the couches, sliding down next to Josh. Derrin almost expected him to wink at Tenzin, since he had been less than subtle about his attraction to her, but he restrained himself. Mikhail didn’t seem to notice any of them, actually, being content to simply allow the others to notice him.

“So, vat are we all talking about?” Mikhail asked, attempting to become relevant in the conversation.

“You, mostly,” Josh quickly quipped “and that overpowering scent that you’re wearing. What is it: Odor de Sex Machine?”

Derrin and Bart both chuckled. Mikhail took it in stride, snickering and placing his arm around Josh’s shoulders once more. “I’m just attempting to bring style back to the planet. I would acknowledge your objection, but it means very little, coming from a man in a bathrobe.”

“I haven’t really seen the point in changing,” Josh replied as he stood up, shrugging off Mikhail’s arm in the process. “The point of this operation is to revive the world, right? Since I’m the reconnaissance operative, I thought that gathering information was probably a higher priority than impressing you guys with my stylistic clothing choices.”

“What have you learned?” Tenzin asked, turning to Josh with renewed interest.

Josh shrugged. “Not much, to be honest,” he admitted. “I’m going to explore the base a little, get changed, and I’ll meet you all back here a little later.”

Josh proceeded to the door, passing Claire in the process. Derrin restrained the smile which instinctively pried at the corners of his lips whenever he saw her. It was only natural that he should be drawn to her companionship, but he didn’t want to seem to eager. She walked to the couch where he was sitting, and placed herself beside him. Bart nodded to her.

“Good morning, Dr. Roux,” he greeted her with an ironic brightness. “It’s a great day to be alive, isn’t it?”

Claire laughed generously at the joke. “That it is, Dr. Fredrix,” she replied, her fingers once again digging into Derrin’s mid-thigh. “It’s a beautiful, new day for the planet Earth.”

Archimedes actually smiled at the humor. Derrin wondered how long it would be before that joke became the new “how was traffic”.

XI

Nothing he had learned from Archimedes really needed to be kept from the rest of the crew. Still, it made Josh feel more important, knowing things that no one else knew. Besides the current population (cataloged, anyway… there were probably others out there who weren’t part of the Illuminati grand scheme, but Josh didn’t want to think about that right now, mostly because of the nightmares that it would produce), Archimedes hadn’t really revealed anything too conspiratorial. Syracuse was fully equipped to provide for the team, without additional resources, for the next ten years., provided they lived within their means. According to the map, which Archimedes had agreed was crude, there was a fully stocked library, a medical bay, a functional laboratory and greenhouse, a garage which contained an armory and tool shed, along with motor vehicles of various size and properties, and there was a fitness center, for those who were so inclined. Joshua had asked about the power supply, and Archimedes informed him that everything was solar powered. The sun had not been as effected by the nuclear fallout as some scientists had theorized. It was still pumping out pure solar rays, which was why the computers had “woken up”, 100 years ago, in order to gather enough power for the base to function at full capacity. Josh was wondering now, with most of the radiation being vented out of their atmosphere, if maybe the sun’s rays were even more pure than they had been when mankind had run civilization, thanks to the decrease of man’s involvement. He knew that, 500 years ago, humanity as a whole had virtually converted to clean energy, at least for everyday purposes, but there had still been innumerable power stations, nuclear testing sites, Styrofoam, microwaves, and pockets of hippies who insisted that their way of living was better than anyone else’s, even if what they did was expensive and ultimately more damaging to the atmosphere than others.

Cows were likely a thing of the past. That would probably help with the methane problems.

Josh stepped into his bedroom, quickly showered, and changed into a vintage Star Wars, Episode XX t-shirt, along with a pair of oversized island shorts. He didn’t bother with shoes, since there was no point. After all, the library’s “no shirt, no shoes, no books” policy probably died with the librarians.

As he was walking toward the library, Josh had a thought: he wondered if Archimedes was in contact with the other bases. Communication satellites were likely decommissioned, since there was no one around to operate them any longer, but if The Illuminati had set up an internal network, it would make sense for them to be in contact with one another. Josh made a mental note to ask Archimedes about that, the next time that he had a chance.

Josh arrived at the library a few minutes later. As the door slid open, granting him entry, he stared in awe at the utopia which welcomed him. It almost made the 500-year sleep completely worth it.

XII

Dr. Tenzin St. Crow watched Josh leave, and was torn between being relieved, curious, and slightly guilty for mocking his humorous attempt at levity. The terrycloth against her skin was rough, when compared to the fabrics that she was used to wearing, but it was more comfortable than the social anxiety which she had tried to get under control most of her professional life. It wasn’t easy getting people to take her seriously in medical biology, especially when she looked the way that she did. Being included in this project was supposed to eliminate those insecurities, but somehow, they remained in place. She had been short with Stein, and she knew that it had been a hasty, angst-fueled response. Now she was just hoping that she would be able to recover from that quickly, since it was far too early to begin making enemies already. Every time that Ruscov looked at her, she felt as though she were suddenly naked with her legs spread. That probably was not entirely his fault, and she wasn’t going to tell him to stop looking at her, but he still made her uncomfortable. She was not that familiar with Russia’s culture. Maybe that was just the way that they looked at women and, therefore, something that she would need to get used to.

“So,” Bartholomew addressed Archimedes “what would be the preliminary goal here? I know that the ultimate goal is to revive the Earth and preserve humanity, but what would be the first step to doing so?”

“I would imagine that our first action would be to explore the new world and see how things have changed,” Derrin answered before Archimedes had a chance to do so. “We can’t really proceed much more until we’ve done that, right?”

Archimedes nodded his assent. “That would be an excellent move, Dr. Clarke,” he confirmed. “External readers on the base have, indeed, confirmed that the air is, once again, breathable, with most of the radiation having been vented out of the atmosphere naturally. In the garage, you’ll find vehicles, along with an armory which will give you any defensive products that you need.”

Derrin looked at Bartholomew. “You specialize in botany, right? How’d you like to join me on a trip to the new world?”

Bartholomew nodded: “I’d enjoy that quite a bit. The horticulture of a formerly irradiated world must be fascinating. I wonder how the atmospheric conditions have effected the natural evolution process!”

Derrin laughed at Bartholomew’s eagerness to join the expedition. He was starting to think that, maybe, this might not be the worst group of people to rebuild the world with.

XIII

Derrin walked into the garage, followed closely by Bart (he had assured them that it was okay to shorten his name, in effort to save time) and Claire. Mikhail had expressed an interest in coming along, but Tenzin had fortunately reminded him that he was little than a diplomat, and there would be very little use for one of those at the moment. Mikhail hadn’t been happy about being left out but, since no one would bother to side with him, he resolved himself to sulk alone. Tenzin herself said that she would be along in a short time, but she wanted to examine her lab first. Derrin would have preferred to have Josh along for the trip, since he was the cartographer and the construction of maps would probably be vital, but the location software told them that he was in the library, and Derrin chose to leave him to whatever project it was that he was researching.

With the more information that Derrin uncovered about Syracuse, the more satisfied he became with it’s capacities. The internal communications network was pretty standard, and he was used to computers using heat signatures and biotracking to pinpoint individuals in large complexes, and being able to talk, via screens and telecoms placed throughout those same buildings. He had not, however, expected to have those same conveniences without a direct satellite link. He’d asked Archimedes how that was possible, and he had explained that it was a localized network, with a self-contained source box. Derrin understood that. He didn’t want to think too much about it, or how it had continued to operate at full capacity after 500 years without upkeep

Looking at his wrist, Derrin examined the other device that he was trying not to think too deeply about. Derrin was familiar with the Oracle device, having owned one or two of them himself. In his time, Derrin would have said that his was the top-of-the-line model. The Oracle which was currently on his wrist put every model that he had owned to shame. Staring at the digital screen, Derrin had to resist the urge to pull it off his wrist and break it apart, just to figure out how it worked. The device held all the basic Oracle properties: a communication tool, an analytical computer, a homeostasis reader, and an informational storage pod. It also had a video projection screen, a library of reference tools, a topographical scanner/mapper, and many other properties that Derrin looked forward to exploring. Each team member had been supplied with one, and Archimedes had warned them to never take them off, especially when out in the field. Of course, that was exactly what Derrin wanted to do.

“Wow,” Bart chuckled as he entered the garage. “This is quite a setup.”

He wasn’t lying. Contained in the garage were two SUVs and three ATVs, each locked into an electrical charging station, with three gas fueling stations along the rear wall. In one corner, Derrin could see the armory through the glass door, with a vast collection of guns, ammo, and bladed weaponry for melee (or for those who just preferred style over comfort). The other corner contained a work bench for mechanical repair or design, along with the tools that were required for those ventures. Derrin was practically salivating at the chance to make modifications and designs, using those tools.

He was jerked back to reality when he heard one of the SUVs roar to life. “They work,” Claire cheered from behind the wheel.

Bart quickly jumped to one of the ATVs, placing his thumb against the starter. The ATV started immediately, and Bart laughed. “All right, so either Claire and I were very lucky, finding the specific vehicles linked to our thumbprints,” he said, loudly enough for the others to hear over the engines “or all of our prints are in the vehicle’s memory.”

“Well, that’ll make our insurance premiums a bitch to pay,” Derrin laughed, stepping up beside the SUV that Claire was currently sitting in.

Claire took Derrin’s hand as she climbed out of the SUV after shutting it down: “Guys, why are we getting so excited about having vehicles? Seriously, I saw the SUV, and it was as if I was a child during Holiday.”

“It’s something familiar,” Bart observed, shutting down his ATV and coming to stand beside Derrin and Claire. “The entire world is new and undiscovered, everything that we once knew is now, supposedly, gone. We all know the motor vehicles, though, and they still work the same way that they always have.”

Derrin could see the rationale behind that statement, and he nodded in agreement. “Well,” he sighed, turning to the blank wall that was opposite them, which served as a garage door “before we get too excited, starting and unstarting our vehicles, let’s get out there and see what’s become of this world.”

There was a palm scanner, situated next to the far wall. Claire walked to it confidently, laying her hand against the panel. As she did so, the blank wall began to slide upward, just as a rudimentary garage door ought to do. Upon seeing the motion, Claire moved to stand beside Derrin and Bart as they stood, transfixed on the world which was revealed. Once the process had completed, the three of them shared a vast pool of emotional responses, ranging from disappointment to fascination to intimidation.

“Yeah,” Bart sighed after a moment of observation “I don’t think we’re going to be driving out of here anytime soon.”

The flora and fauna which had come to dominate Salt Lake City resembled that of a wild, unchecked, rainforest. It seemed as though the Earth had recovered nicely, despite the lack of human interference. Trees, vines, and ground cover from varieties that Bart couldn’t identify canvased the exterior of Syracuse, creating a blanket of the brightest green that he could remember seeing. In the background, miles away, Bart could see the outlines of the mountains which had once identified the city. Before the project, Bart had never been to Salt Lake City but, in anticipation of the event, he had studied the area. He had seen the mountains in picture, and they had not seemed exceptionally daunting. Now, seeing them in person, they were larger than they had appeared, and much more intimidating.

Bart took one cautious step through the door, closer to the jungle which awaited him. The soil beneath his feet felt solid and familiar, like that of the Earth that he had left. Looking down, he dug the tip of his shoe into it with no adverse reaction. It was the shade of red granite, but had the fine texture of white sand. Restraining himself, Bart decided to not take a sample until he had the appropriate equipment.

Breathing deeply, the smells which greeted him were unlike anything that he had experienced before. It was pure and natural, both welcoming and foreboding, inviting him to embrace the new organic world, but warning him not to mess things up. This was a botanist’s dream, with a vast array of uncatalogued beauty to experience. It was a nightmare, as the list of unknown threats grew within his brain. Bart was hesitant to touch anything until he had protective gear. This world had existed for 500 years without humans. He was an alien on a new planet. There was no way of knowing how this planet would react to his interactions.

Returning to his awe-struck companions, Bart felt his face break into a wide smile. “Planet Earth seems to be doing just fine,” he chuckled. “I almost don’t want to mess with the ecosystem.”

Claire nodded. “It looks so peaceful out there,” she agreed. “Even with the untamed wild, there seems to be an organized chaos. It’s almost a shame to disrupt it.”

“We’re humans,” Derrin commented. “Disrupting ecosystems is what we do.”

Claire elbowed him in the ribs: “Don’t be so cynical.”

“Brother,” Bart laughed “that was dark.”

The three of them stood together and looked out on the wild for a moment longer. Exploration would need to happen, obviously. They would need to leave the safety of Syracuse. New threats and species would need to be analyzed and cataloged. At the moment, though, the world felt right.

Next Chapter: The End of the World as We know It