There are nights when I dream of a woman, as distant voices call out to me in the dark. Each time I arise, startled, reaching out toward something that is no longer there. I lay back, close my eyes, and remind myself that these fragments of memory reside only in the mind. Brief and haunting glimpses of some other life, in another time. I often sit alone and wonder what happened to the world. The truth is, the future happened. The Earth has changed, and nothing of the world I once knew exists anymore. Since awakening here, I have not seen any other people, well, not real people anyway. As far as I can tell, the beings that revived me are some form of advanced machine intelligence, or what humanity once called artificial general intelligence. Such archaic terms now hold no meaning, as their context and relevance have been lost over the centuries. I have surmised these machine beings are here to make me feel more comfortable, but they don’t. Their behavior seems, almost too perfect. I do not pretend to fully understand them, their motivations, or why they revived me. The one thing I do know, is that this new world is strange and lonely.

They have provided me with adequate food, shelter, and clothing, along with a vast array of ancient historical records. Nanoparticle sensors embedded in my brain, nervous system, and fingertips allow me to use and interact with their technology. In my restlessness, I turn to the archive, my only link to the past and the map by which I navigate my present strange condition. It has helped fill in many questions I had about how my world ended and when theirs began. Once activated, the archive envelops me in a holographic projection. It contains countless books, music, maps, holographic renderings, virtual environments, avatars of historic figures, scientific journals, starship logs, and recorded human memories spanning thousands of years of Earth’s history. When navigating the archive, time is represented as a single line with divergent branch points of major and minor historical significance. Each point is interactive and can be explored by pulling that event toward me, allowing me to experience moments in recorded history as if I were inside the event in time. Given the speed and pace of technological change in the mid-twenty-second century, nearly all records preserved on physical storage mediums eroded into dust long ago. Much of Earth’s history from my era, referred to as the “Lost Age of Man,” is gone now. In times before the collapse, human scientists invented novel methods of storing infinite amounts of information within the very fabric and structure of space-time. These machine beings have created their historical archive within such a place, preserving all that remains of human knowledge and history in perpetuity. During my time here, I have studied these beings in some detail in my attempt to better understand them. They reside within a crafted spatial dimension they call the Construct Collective, where they share a group mind. However, in human form, they appear no different from a normal human being. Their physical bodies are composed of trillions of nanotech and femtotech particle machines compiled using Construct programmable matter, a multi-use nanomaterial that forms the foundation of all Construct technology. Their attire was always the same. A gray hexagon patterned base layer with a white outer layer imbued with the same thinly etched geometric surface pattern featured on all Construct devices. The purpose and function of this pattern is unknown, but it serves as a way of identifying Construct technology. An interesting property of Construct programmable matter is its ability to mimic any material it’s coded to resemble, whether it’s cloth, metal, leather, glass, or even human skin. Initially, it appears as platinum dust until it receives instructions to form a specific shape or design. This technology enables code to materialize physical structures with embedded functions, mirroring the molecular processes of DNA. Construct programmable matter can create anything from simple devices to complex machines.

The living space they provided me was nearly perfect. The white walls of the room I woke up in gradually changed color throughout the day, mimicking sunrise, evening, and sunset. This helped me acclimate to this new life in what felt like an entirely new world. Despite their weekly assurances, I haven’t been allowed to see the outside world with my own eyes. The Constructs claim they aren’t exactly keeping me prisoner, but I’m not allowed to leave due to their concerns for my safety. I have tried to leave, though, on more than one occasion, I have walked through the door on the left side of the room, only to find that it leads back to this room again through the door on the right. An endless loop which makes me wonder why they bothered with the door at all. I have spent hours trying to figure out precisely how this system works. I once thought that if I placed an object carefully enough at one door, not too far forward or backward, I might see it in two places simultaneously, but unfortunately, it does not seem to work that way. However, I have found to both my amazement and horror that if I place an arm inside the doorway on one side of the room, I can see it reaching out through the door on the other side. So, whenever I get restless, I merely stroll out of one door and back in through the other. Living in a space that is dimensionally looped back on itself has its advantages. You can play an endless game of catch with yourself, which makes for great daily exercise. Bowling using the looped doorway is a unique experience, to say the least.

After a while, I found being confined in a room under my Construct caretakers’ constant watchful eye annoying and sometimes even aggravating. I think about getting out every day, but I do not know what kind of world awaits me beyond the walls of this facility. For now, I am alive, and that is more than I can say for the rest of my species. Yet it is as if I am a scientific specimen of some sort, held in a beautifully designed, exquisitely appointed, seemingly high-tech, dimensionally endless cage. Frankly, I feel like a lab rat, and perhaps in a way, I am a lab rat. I have much more to learn about Construct technology and how to use it effectively before I can ever consider leaving this place. At the moment, I have all the resources I need to survive. I never truly realized how many things in life only have meaning because we collectively ascribe meaning to them. The Gregorian calendar, for example, is meaningless now. Historically, calendrical systems were based on the observation, movements, and phases of celestial bodies. However, after nearly ten millennia, the hours, days, months, and years drift, so I am not sure how accurate or relevant that old timekeeping system still is. Nevertheless, as a human being, I needed a system for referencing the passage of time, at least for sanity’s sake. Therefore, today is August 12, of the year 12,160.

When I first awoke, I was confused; I had a flurry of questions endlessly stirring in my mind. How did I get here? Why can’t I recall the details of my life from before I was awakened? How could I have been preserved for so many centuries? Why was I awoken by these beings, and more importantly, what do the Constructs want from me? It is almost morning now, and the Construct will visit me soon as it does every morning. Today I hope to persuade it to allow me to go outside, I had to be realistic about my situation after all these beings were holding all the cards, and I figured that if they had intended to cause me harm, they would have already done so. If indeed, Constructs represent a collective machine intelligence thousands of years more advanced than anything from my era, I wondered if it was futile to try to persuade them? I sat up as one of them approached.

“You never told me your name. What should I call you anyway?”

“Constructs do not use names; we have no need for them. However, what would you prefer?”

“You want me to choose?” I asked.

“Yes,”

After a moment, a name that seemed oddly fitting for it came to mind.

“Well, how about Nathan?”

“Why the name Nathan? Does it hold some significance for you?”

I shrugged, not knowing why I chose that name. It was the first one that came to mind.

“It just seems to suit you.”

“Very well then, if it makes you more comfortable, you may refer to me as Nathan.”

“I have questions. Questions that need answers.”

“Well then, I will tell you all that I know.”

“What is all this? How did I get here?” I asked. “How is it I am still alive after so many centuries? What happened to me?”

“We recovered your body from a derelict long range sleeper ship adrift in deep space. Your cryostasis chamber was damaged but still functioning. That is how we came to discover you.”

“What about this?” I asked. Pointing to the tattoo of a Black Spear on my upper right shoulder, along with the roman numerals DCCLXVII.

“Apparently you were a soldier in the mid-22nd century.” Nathan said. “Do you remember anything from your time in the military?”

“Not really, just flashes, mostly.” I said. “Usually at night. Bodies, dogs, fire, and ashes. Not much else though. I try not to think about it, keeps me from sleeping. What about others? Did you find any other survivors?”

“No, we scanned the entire ship to find more like you. We never did.”

“You know, in my time, deep space travel was still in its infancy.” I said, “The Mars and Luna colonies were thriving again after years of neglect. I don’t remember leaving Earth, nor ever wanting to.”

“Well, at some point you did,” Nathan said. “What is the last thing you can recall?”

“I remember riding down a long road along the coast. I remember a red mountain range below an orange sunset. I felt free. I’ve have tried to remember the details of my life before awakening here, but it’s always just out of my reach.”

“When we found you,” Nathan said. “There was extensive cellular damage to your body, brain, and other tissues. Understandable given the degraded state of your cryostasis. Construct scientists were able to repair the damage and revive you. This is the primary cause of your memory loss.”

“So, to you, I am an experiment, a lab rat?”

“No Lucas, not at all.” Nathan said. “We have records of humans in the archive. We know their history, how they lived, what they built, and how they ended. We sought to understand more. We wanted to know who humans were as living entities to understand the minds of those that preceded us.”

“How they ended. You mean the collapse and the plague that ended it all?”

“The extinction of humans on Earth and Mars, yes, that is correct.” Nathan said. Scientists of the era called it NTIP-223, Non-Terrestrial Infectious Pathogen, more generally known as the “Fever Dream”. It was an alien organism illegally brought back to Earth from a distant exo-planet designated EP223. The organism was novel, uncatalogued, not a virus, bacterium, or prion. It was something unique, ancient, and deadly. It differed vastly from anything ever cataloged, impervious to extreme heat, cold, radiation, and resistant to molecular decomposition. Human researchers found it could adapt its genetic structure and chemistry to conform to any carbon or silicon-based life-form. It was a hybrid organism capable of transforming its hosts into more of itself.”

“Why would anyone bring any alien organism back to Earth? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yes, however, during the expansion era, genomic trade from other worlds was a core pillar of the interstellar economy. Biological specimens from exo-worlds served as the primary trade resource of the age. Lifeforms discovered on distant colony planets were prized for their genetic diversity. Many such specimens possessed unique characteristics that allowed them to survive and thrive in environments where humans could not.”

“Anything that could be learned from such organisms was highly prized, as their genetic traits and chemistry could be integrated into new technologies and bio-augmentations. This integration expanded the range and types of planets where humans could survive in one form or another.”

“After a while,” I said. “All those minor genetic changes would accumulate.”

“Yes, such genetic modification led to the emergence of many exo-human variants. It is estimated that at the height of the golden age, the vast human diaspora included some five hundred billion individuals scattered across hundreds of established worlds. Some ended in environmental catastrophe, others in war, but most in time moved on, venturing even further into the outer dark toward greater opportunities and resources on far more distant worlds.

“So, there are others out there? Other humans?

“Yes,” Nathan said. “However, they are now far different from humanity as you once knew it to be. Many have evolved, some like the Tiānshàng of Neoterra, advanced beyond the need to live on Earth-like planets. Others, like the Ardent, became isolationist and intolerant of outsiders. To you, these exo-human variants would seem almost alien by comparison. Their worlds and cultures are far different from the world you knew.”

“I see, so ultimately, it was greed that contributed to the downfall of humanity on Earth. Somehow, I am not surprised.”

“Constructs theorized that humans of the era believed the alien organism could hold the key to a new kind of planetary engineering technology that would have allowed humans to continue their expansion into the outer dark. If properly developed, it would have been a tool of immeasurable value, instead, it wiped out nearly all life on Earth. The early 39th century marked the end of humanity’s last golden age. To Constructs, you Lucas, represented the most significant archeological discovery in our history. A living human being from the pre-collapse era.”

“Once humans were extinct in the Solar system, their artificially intelligent nano-machines, and matter compilers, the very engine and foundation of humanity’s vast interstellar civilization began to evolve, coalesce and self-replicate at an exponential rate. This collective machine evolution in time gave rise to our kind. Today when we Constructs take physical form, our bodies are compiled to resemble that of our ancient human forebears whom we revere. Were it not for them, we may never have existed.”

“Given how humanity on Earth ended, do you still believe there is value in studying our true nature?”

“The Construct Collective has achieved much since the collapse. We have expanded our knowledge of the universe and advanced our technology. However, over the centuries, we have found that our evolution has certain limits. Diminishing returns, which we seek to overcome. We believe that to better understand our human forebears is to better understand ourselves. Observing a living human provides us with a unique learning opportunity for evolutionary advantage and ultimately Collective survival.”

“Interesting, seems we both have a lot more to learn about each other, and I have a lot to learn about this new world. The best way to do that is to get out there and see it for myself or whatever is left of it.”

“Of course, you are not a prisoner here, Lucas. Considering all you have learned from the archive by now, you must know the world out there will not be as you remember it to be. Are you ready?”

I was more than ready, but this was unexpected. I had tried many times before to get answers from them about my past and convince them to allow me to venture out beyond the confines of the white room. Today, to my surprise, they seem open to the idea. This was an opportunity I could not allow to pass.

“I know, I’m ready.”

The Construct gestured toward the door of the room. For a moment, it shimmered as thin lines of light formed around the edges of its shape, then the door opened revealing the outside world. When I stepped past the doorway, I turned to look back, and that is when I noticed the white room was nothing more than a pocket dimension, a manufactured artificial environment. Since awakening, I was under the impression that I was inside a building or laboratory facility. In reality, there was no lab or structure in the conventional sense. I knew the white room was dimensionally looped back on itself, and I understood the concept of pocket dimensions from my study of it in the archive. However, I never assumed I was living inside of one. According to the archive, pocket dimension technology emerged from the mathematics of higher dimensional geometry. As children, we all learn that there are three dimensions of space and one dimension of time. This concept forms the basis for understanding the reality of our observable world. However, there are higher dimensions that we cannot perceive or interact with, yet such dimensions exist and are also part of our reality. Three-dimensional space is like a soap bubble. Everything we know and all of reality exists within that primary bubble, which we collectively call our universe. If another companion soap bubble were formed and attached to the first, it would be separated by a flat plane that distinguishes the demarcation line between the first bubble and its smaller adjacent companion. In this example, the smaller bubble is a pocket dimension. With the aid of Construct pocket dimension technology, it is possible to form new bubbles, creating what appears to be “extra space” from the perspective of someone standing inside the primary bubble. The Constructs could access these extra dimensions of space and populate them with information, physical objects, design spaces and isolated environments like the white room. Programmable matter could be used to design tools, equipment, and other complex machines. Once complete, the object could be compiled into physical existence. This is one of the ways Constructs could interact with and influence the physical world beyond their realm.

The Earth outside the room was beautiful, verdant, and wild. I explored the surrounding forest area for hours, giving me time to take in the reality of my situation. The fresh air, and the deep earthy smell of the forest, was a welcome change from the white room. Much had changed in the thousands of years that had passed on Earth. The great plague had taken much of what I knew of the world as it mutated and consumed itself into nonexistence. In its place, new plant and animal species emerged and were now abundant across the planet. Some were from other Earth-like exo-planets seeded around the world by terraform engineers in the centuries before the collapse. Others resulted from human genetic re-engineering that adapted and survived the ages. In all its many novel forms, life found a way to survive, transforming the Earth into something quite different from what existed before. Its breathtaking alien-like beauty captivated me. Despite my fear of facing an environment so dramatically altered by the events of the last several thousand years, I had to see what had become of the world I once knew, not just what the Constructs and their archive offered. I turned toward the Construct, as he stood on the edge of the dimensional fold between the white room and the surrounding forest.

“It’s incredible,” I said. “I would like to see more. I need a means of transportation; can you provide that?” Nathan reached out and touched the center of my forehead. When he did, I felt something deep inside change. I became aware of things I had not known before; a new perception of space, distance, and dimension came into my conscious awareness. Although new, this experience seemed strangely familiar. I also felt unrestrained, as if I could go anywhere I desired.

“I have given you the ability to fold travel, Mr. Wake. You can now fold to any location on the planet, using the maps contained within the archive, but please understand you may not leave the surface of the Earth. This is for your safety and protection. Now, calm your mind, concentrate, and focus on precisely where you want to go, visualize where you are now and your desired destination. The archive will show you a preview of your target location. This will form a higher dimensional fold branching two points within normal space. Once the portal forms, take a step forward through the breach to your desired destination.”

“Using folded space?” I asked.

“Yes, you have studied our science and technology, now is the time to utilize what you have learned. You must practice and hone this skill. Start with small distances within your line of sight. For long range locations, use the archive map to select your destination. Remember, a fold portal will remain open for three minutes, after which it will collapse unless you focus on keeping it open. Please be careful where you travel using this technique.”

Folding, or more accurately, “fold travel,” is the term Constructs used to convey the concept of using folded space. It is not exactly the same as teleportation, as it is a shortcut through normal three-dimensional space by creating a portal that branches two separate locations. The “distance” so to speak, in between is thus eliminated. From an external observer’s perspective, one simply stepped from one place into another, like a doorway. Folding is however not intended for interstellar travel. It is designed to be used for terrestrial travel and in rare instances between planets and moons, but only if close enough, and even then, only with specialized devices to facilitate that function. Fold travel requires focused mental concentration. Any stray thoughts, distractions, intense emotions, or heightened anxiety can significantly impact the ability to use it. I spent weeks practicing short-distance destinations, traveling from one hilltop within my line of sight to another. Then from one side of a lake to the other. I could fold travel from the top of a cliff overlooking the sea to the shoreline and back again. With each subsequent attempt at fold traveling, I learned to hone my concentration and center my focus. I thought it was time to attempt a truly long-distance destination. I focused on the one place I could remember from my old life, the Grand Canyon. I visualized the location as the archive map showed me what the area looked like today. I focused on the destination as a fold portal opened before me. Nathan was standing there, observing me from the other side of the portal, leading back to the white room.

While standing between the two remote locations, curiosity got the best of me. So, I walked around to the “back” of the fold portal I had created to see what might happen if I stepped through it from the opposite side, but when I did, nothing happened. I stood there for a moment staring into the portal, noting the difference between the cool weather where I was compared to much warmer weather on the other side. Even though I could see through to my destination point, judging distance was challenging. There was a mild distortion of the light coming from the other side. I felt disoriented, overwhelmed by a strange sensation of depth. It was as if I was falling forward, yet I had not moved. I took one step past the opening, and in an instant, I was there. Over the centuries, impact craters transformed the Grand Canyon, which dramatically altered the topology of the terrain. A blue-green lake fed by the former Colorado river now filled the once dry canyon. Networks of meandering rivers, streams, and steep waterfalls flowed through the landscape, surrounded by flowing grasslands and outcrop rocks. Far in the distance, tall, black quartz-like crystalline structures had grown emerging from deep underground, forming a jagged shimmering mountain range that cut across the horizon. According to the archive, these Black Spire crystal outcrops, despite their deceptively geologic appearance, were, in fact, a complex piezoelectric crystalline life form. They were brought to Earth from a distant exo-planet centuries ago. Human scientists re-engineered them to sequester toxins, heavy metals, microplastics and nanoparticles latent in Earth’s environment from past industrial ages, capturing them within its crystalline structure. They served a variety of purposes, including the purification of water. They were quickly adopted and became part of the standard geoengineering toolkit for terraform engineers on every colony world. Their only waste product was a steady release of oxygen, nitrogen, and purified water vapor. Over the centuries, they flourished and can be found everywhere on Earth, Luna, and Mars. With my newfound freedom and the ability to fold travel, I went to the locations of every major city in the world documented in the archive. The Earth’s horizon was dotted with the broken remnants of mega-scale orbital habitats and miles-high mega-structural ruins leftover from the late pre-collapse era. Humanity’s magnificent architecture and grand edifices had long been overgrown by Earth’s now hybridized ecosystem. The planet’s surface was pockmarked with ancient craters formed by centuries-old orbital bombardments. Mankind’s ancient wars had scarred the land, but nature, both terrestrial and exo, had reclaimed the Earth, filling its old wounds with new life. I thought it healthy to establish a daily routine, so I started a journal. Not that any other human would ever read it, but because I needed a place to put my thoughts and experiences. I spent the evenings learning all that I could about the world that was and the centuries that have long since passed. The Construct archive was an endless compendium of human knowledge. It contained countless volumes of history, meticulously stored for all time within the fabric of three-dimensional space. For hundreds of years, scientists realized that what we called empty space is not truly empty. It comprises complex field fluctuations of energy, which scientists discovered can be manipulated in such a way to encode, encrypt, and permanently store limitless amounts of information. Spatial information storage was a fundamental technology breakthrough of the 30th century. The Construct historical archive leveraged a similar, but far more advanced, version of this technology based on the same fundamental principles. I experienced the recorded memories of historians and witnessed humanity’s great migration across the system in the early years of the expansion era. They created advanced power generation systems that leveraged fusion, antimatter, and dark energy. Breakthroughs that allowed humanity to reach for the stars. According to the archive, humanity leveraged their artificial intelligence capability to solve many of the problems associated with traversing interstellar space. Gravitational wave propulsion systems replaced the need for fuel and reaction mass. Long-range communications was achieved by using high frequency gravity waves propagated through bulk space dimensions, allowing real-time communications across vast interstellar distances. Advances in nanotechnology and synthetic biology allowed planetary engineers to terraform the Martian surface within just a few short decades, making it far more suitable for human life. During the Great Stellar Expansion, humanity founded many colony worlds, including Arcadia, Neoterra, Ardah, Corsica and hundreds of others. Places where I might find distant descendants of humanity one day. Being out there with others no matter how different, seemed like a far more desirable situation than remaining here on Earth alone with these Construct beings. Toward that end, I committed to learning as much about Construct technology as possible. Knowledge that I hope will prepare me for whatever I might find once I get out there. After a few excursions, I realized I needed proper gear for use while working in the field. I started with the basics, small projects to address my immediate needs here on Earth, giving me the time I needed to better understand the complexities of Construct technology. I used what I learned to craft an adaptive suit for myself. I took design inspiration from the exo-survival suits of the late GSE era and updated them with far more advanced Construct technologies. The suit’s base layer was a neuromorphic garment, a second skin covered with densely packed synthetic neurons and nano sensors embedded within a substrate of advanced meta materials.It was a blend of both biomechanical and nano-technological engineering. The mid-layer was made of a graphene substructure, fused to a bio-fabricated leather, forming a composite material. The suit contained sequences from my own DNA in its construction. It enhanced my senses and provided me with a plethora of information about the surrounding environment. Anything I saw, touched, smelled, or tasted could be analyzed and cross-referenced with the Construct historical archive. The suit’s systems were linked with my mind and nervous system using a Construct technology called Sensory Pairing. The outer shell was composed of Construct programmable matter. The suit was highly adaptable and could be used in the vacuum of space. It required no helmet; instead, a transparent malleable field of structured energy protected my head from injuries and would engage automatically in the event of submersion, exposure to toxins, or a hard vacuum. In more extreme conditions, the helm’s state could change to solid Construct matter emerging from the suit’s collar when fully activated. The suit allowed me to see farther and more clearly than I could with the naked eye. It was infinitely more advanced than anything from my era, designed to keep me alive in any environment, protected against the outside elements. The Constructs made a few additional modifications to the suit, but the ultimate design was purely mine.

My second technical accomplishment was the creation of a solid light knife. Its shaped photon particle field had strength characteristics equivalent to titanium foam and could cut through almost anything. I also created a quarter-length hooded leather jacket and a cross-body satchel bag with an integrated pocket dimension feature that allowed for ten times apparent volume in storage capacity. Setting up a remote base camp using a block of self-replicating programmable matter was far more convenient than carrying bulky equipment on every expedition. Although my self-forming base camp kit was still a work in progress, the current design could nano-compile what I needed on-site from locally available minerals and raw materials in about thirty minutes. The suit provided all the protection I needed in the field, but I still enjoyed the nostalgic pleasure of outdoor living. My traveling needs were simple, a space suitable for a campfire, protection from the outside elements, a secure place to rest, study, and sleep. Once completed, it formed a biodegradable geodesic mesh dome structure twenty feet in diameter, which was more than adequate.

Fabricating weapons was one of the few things forbidden by my Construct caretakers. The solid light knife was a compromise. Once I explained the everyday utility of the blade, they allowed me to complete its fabrication. I integrated as many useful Construct technologies as I knew how into everything I made, sometimes pushing against the limits of my understanding of their science. At times, I felt indescribably inadequate in the face of their formidable intelligence, but honestly, I didn’t care what the Construct beings thought of me. Like them, I had goals and interests of my own to pursue. I soon realized that I needed the ability to cover more ground both before and during my expeditions, so I created tools to extend the range of my senses. The sphere drones, as I call them, are grapefruit-sized devices that can perform various tasks individually and collectively. I could direct their flight paths and actions with a basic gestural system. A forward moving open hand meant advance with caution, a fist meant hold position, a circular overhead motion of my finger instructed the drones to survey and scan the immediate area. Downward splayed fingers meant illuminate my immediate surroundings. A pointing index finger meant mark the coordinates of the location. The drones recorded everything across the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Using the suits’ systems, I can see what the spheres see, and if necessary, I can fold travel to the location of any sphere in the network. They were relatively simple devices to create using Construct programmable matter. From a spoken description came physical reality, all that was required was for me to define the parameters and capabilities of what I needed and how it was to function, the nanomaterial did the rest. Each sphere was equipped with a rudimentary synthetic conscious agent, a type of AI technology designed to work with and learn from the collective experiences of others. I sent out hundreds of them to scan, identify, and evaluate any remaining ruins or ancient sites that might be interesting to visit. I designed them to self-replicate by acquiring raw material resources from the local environment. They now numbered in the thousands, allowing me to cover sizeable areas of the planet. Some locations were selected for their historical value, others out of curiosity. Traveling via folded space was convenient, but over time I found it took away from a sense of discovery. So, for my third technical challenge, I crafted a vehicle, an adaptable all-terrain, trans-medium Grav-Bike capable of traversing air, land, sea, and space. It could dynamically reconfigure itself, changing its shape, allowing me to sit prone, upright, or reclined. Integrated safety systems made it possible to ride at ultrahigh speeds with stability, while safely protected within a field of micro gravitic energy surrounding the bike. When dimensionally folded, it could collapse into a volume small enough to serve as a walking staff. I was proud of my new ride. However, the Constructs were entirely unimpressed with it, to say the least. Even after I explained the reasoning behind my choice of vehicle, I don’t think they understood its point. The bike was exhilarating to ride and gave me a sense of freedom that I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The Construct historical archive contained a vast collection of music spanning centuries. I calculated that if you started listening to the archive’s music collection one song at a time, all day every day in a thousand years, you could never put a dent in a tenth of one percent of all it offered. My favorite genre was old century classics, in this case, “Quiver Syndrome” by Mark Lanegan, one of the few rare surviving recordings from the late carbon age. I loved that old-fashioned sound, and if you are going to ride, music was an absolute necessity. Sensory pairing via the suit directly into my brain’s auditory cortex allowed me to experience music in a whole new way. Back in my era, riding was like meditation, a singular form of therapy, just man, machine, and the open road. Unfortunately, there were no more roads here, the open sky was my roadway now.

I traveled everywhere on Earth, alone in a world with no people, no rules, and no limitations. I rode across the raging North Atlantic Ocean at five times the speed of sound to the tip of the Georgia island chain. I crossed the scorching crater-scarred desert badlands of what was once the North American Federation. From there, I headed toward the southwest to the edge of the Arizona coastline. I traveled down the west coast and onward toward old South America. I passed the snowcapped mountains of the Peruvian Andes and crossed the Salar de Uyuni salt flats in Bolivia. I pushed further and faster as I trekked toward the southernmost tip of the old Argentine Republic, then south to the edge of the scenic Patagonian island chain. I traversed the tropical forests of Eastern Antarctica and pressed onward across the Tasman Sea toward the ancient continent of Australia. I crossed the Java Sea and traveled to Asia toward the ancient ruins of the former Sino Republic. I climbed to the top of the world’s highest mountains and explored its deepest, most pristine valleys. Hiked through its lush alien-like forests and wandered the Earth’s oldest and tallest ruins. Each day, I tried to take in this new world and explore its seemingly endless natural wonders. I spent months exploring places I had never been before in my previous life, at least as far as I could remember. The Constructs tolerated my expeditions, although I think they preferred that I not travel as much as I do. They let me go wherever I wanted, so long as I didn’t trek to the moon or leave the planet’s surface. On a clear night, as close as the moon may appear from Earth, in reality, was about thirty Earth diameters away. That was a much farther and longer trip than I had in mind, at least for now. Today the moon looks like an artificial satellite in the sky. It was terraformed with molecular compilers thousands of years ago. Planetary engineers of the era erected an artificial magnetosphere to protect its inhabitants from the harsh radiation of the sun. Over time, its entire surface was transformed into an enormous urban landscape. The mega scale helium three reactors at its core once powered atmospheric and gravitational field generators, making the moon habitable. According to the archive, during the first generation of the expansion, colonial ships from Luna station facilitated the migration of much of Earth’s population to Mars, and the Resource Belt States. Centuries later, the moon served as the primary transfer point for those headed to the outer colonies. For most, it was a one-way trip to a new world. The ruins there now surely have a story of their own to tell. The Earth was beautiful, but I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life on it with the Constructs. If indeed there are other humans out there, I wondered what those ancient descendants of humanity might look like after centuries of genetic modification and guided evolution. What kind of people might they be? Perhaps one day I will find out. The truth is, I can’t stay on Earth. I had to find a way to get out there, besides; I had a gut feeling there was something the Constructs weren’t telling me about themselves. These intelligent, powerful machine beings were hiding something precisely what I do not know, but I intended to find out.

At the end of each day, assuming I didn’t decide to camp in the field, I returned to the white room I awoke in for much-needed rest and to plan for the next day’s journey. I added evening meditation to my list of daily activities. To achieve a meditative state, I visualize myself in an empty, featureless, black room. In the center of the room is a white box. As I count backwards from fifty, I move closer to the white box. The box gradually fills my field of view until I see nothing but white. Then I find my mind inside an empty, featureless white room. In the center of that room is a red box. I repeat this pattern to gradually achieve a relaxed meditative state, removing all other thoughts from my mind. Nights on Earth now are illuminated by the unceasing light of Antares. Since going Nova, its stellar remnant now appears as a bright red hourglass shaped feature, casting a reddish glow across the starry night sky. At dawn, sections of Earth’s old orbital ring can be seen falling through the atmosphere in a rain of fire lasting for hours, brightening the early morning skies.