“See you in a few months?”
“I hope so.” I kissed her again, but this time I wasn’t careful, or coaxing. It wasn’t a question between us, it was the answer. My lips moved, and I tried to memorize the shape of her mouth, until something salty reached my tongue.
I froze and she pulled back abruptly. I was crying. My chest rose once, as I pushed myself away from the truck and slammed her door shut. “Go,” I said hoarsely, fists pressed against my eyes. “Go, Solace.”
The truck lurched backward, but her lights weren’t on. She’d almost gotten into a car crash a few months ago because she’d forgotten to turn on her headlights. My fistexploded against the hood and Solace jumped, mouthing a curse.
I stood in front of the truck, palms flat against the metal. “Get your headlights on!” My chest heaved as the tears ran down my cheeks. “Be safe, goddamn it.” I stepped back, dragging my hands over my head before turning away from her.
Headlights flared to life as I spun around; for a second only standing there—shoulders tight. Neither of us moved, and then Solace turned the wheel and backed the truck down the drive where I was left to shrink in her rearview mirror. Even though she’d only grown larger in my heart.
9
The Scourge
Jude
The end of the world fucking sucked. But what was worse? Naming your stupid robot after your dead best friend.
I didn’t have many reminders of before. My grandmother died a few years into the Air Force Academy and my mom never made it to the exodus shuttles, which had been its own special kind of torment. It had been seven years now—or seven loops, as the Order liked to say.
Everyone I slept, ate, shit, and worked beside were people I’d never met before the bombs dropped. They came from different parts of the world, and like everyone else, they’d chosen new identities after it all went to hell.
The Scourge. Such a stupid word for an Earth-leveling event.
I still had Elias though. Mercifully. Not that I’d ever tell him that—his head was already too big. We had already been in space for eight months when it happened. Working on the SOL satellites.
“What is that?” I asked SOL, eyeing the platter suspiciously. I jerked on the dark blue jacket and zipped it up without bothering with an undershirt. They were all dirty anyway, and I was already delinquently late.
“Your daily ration,” SOL’s robotic voice garbled through the room. “Everything you need to maintain proper nutrition to support our civilization.”
Sighing, I pushed the floating orb away. “I should have never changed your voice, it’s creeping me out.”
“Shall I reprogram, Captain? Booting down in three, two—”
“No.”
I ran the towel through my hair one more time before tossing it over SOL and disappearing back into the bedroom. The switch was necessary because when Elias gave SOL a body—well, a shape—it had come with a female voice. It was sweet and soft, reminding me of Solace’s. It had been too much, so I’d cycled through every variation I could find until I landed on an older male voice.
Turns out it didn’t really matter. SOL still sounded like her. Sometimes the hollow in my chest remembered her as if she was in the room, standing on stage running lines for one of the many plays she’d made me sit through. Even at thirty-two years old—sorry, I mean thirty-twoloops—I couldn’t seem to let go.
There was a roaring in my ears every time SOL spoke and I’d half-madly considered cutting its ability to speak altogether. Everyone on Echelon One and all of the stations wore SOL on their wrists as a glorified smart watch, while I was forced to endure its robot prototype.
Back when the Survival Optimization Logic was first developed, Space Force alongside NASA integrated the system wherever they could manage. At first it was similar to my original handheld model—smooth and round, resembling a river stone. It was easy to slip into your pocket. Then it became a larger device. A tablet-sized scanner that could read anything within five feet. I wasthere the first time they tested it, and at the time I thought it was fucking awesome. Now it floated around as a volleyball-sized orb, annoying the shit out of me and reminding me how lucky I was.
Stupidly lucky.
Though, I wasn’t sure I considered myself that. I’d gone straight into the military after high school, climbed the ranks, and stupidly ended up in the Space Force. I missed birthday’s and Christmas. Always between labs and military bases around the world. Never married. No kids. And then I went up to space, and at the time, I even foundthatconfounding.
Space was magnificent, and I truly mean…was. As in, I’d love nothing more than to hitch a ride back home if it wouldn’t kill me.
Buckled in beside Elias on that rocket was the most exhilarating moment of my life. The stretch of black, kindred to a swath of velvet, cradled the Earth and each planet in our solar system. I cried when I first got to look out of the cupola. I was the youngest astronaut to ever step foot on the I.S.S. at a whopping twenty-five years old. And then boom. Nuclear warfare.Earth, once a sparkling gem, now lay buried beneath humanity’s own execration—a self-inflicted winter of ash. Or better known as: nuclear winter.
Fuck us all.
The Scourge wasn’t scary. It was devastating. I watched grown men fall to their knees and cry. I saw the black plumes claw their way into the atmosphere. I split the skin across my knuckles on some poor kid from Novosibirsk’s face before realizing I wasn’t any better than the rest of them. Hate was easy, nobody had to dig much to find it within themselves.
I didn’t want to be that way.
