The Last One

Beep. Beeeeeeeep. Beep.

“Do you hear that?” Asher asked Sam as they sat on Asher’s floating dock, lines from their poles in the lagoon, beers in hand.

“Hear what?” Sam asked. “Elena?” He turned back to the house and nodded. “I heard her say something about 'wine' and 'baking."

“No, it’s…” Asher started to say. But then shook his head and said, “What is it called again?”

A grin drew across Sam's face, and he said, “They call it the Lexum.”

“Sounds like a fancy car,” Asher said. Sam, like Asher, worked for Inomen Tele-Teck. Sam worked in Systems Maintenance and had access to all the company’s projects, even the secret ones. Asher was a Line and Hologram Coder, but his division was in Holographic gaming, so the information he got about the project was sparse. He got what he did in bits and pieces from Sam. He knew it was a massive project with the world's largest single mainframe, warehoused in a central hub somewhere at the edge of the city. And he only knew that because resources were being rerouted from his division, sparking rumors that it would be absorbed into the secret project.

"OK," Asher relented. "Tell me more."

Sam laughed, and he perked up. He chugged his beer; Asher his. Sam started talking with the enthusiasm of a kid telling his mom about the coolest thing that happened in school. “It’s huge. It's the biggest, most modern AI system the world has ever seen. I saw some of the specs, and it uses some crazy technology. The mainframe has its own nuclear reactor, so it doesn't draw off the power grid, and it'll keep running even in the event of a complete power failure. They’ve already integrated it into the networks across the city. It’ll be global in a few months. It’s going to destroy the competition."

Asher pulled up some seaweed, grunted, and said, "OK, but what can it do?"

More grinning; more beer. "It knows ​everything already." His words sloshed around in his mouth. "And I mean everything.​​ It can use holographic mapping to map every building, tree, and rock in the real world, creating real-time 3D maps for architects and city planners. It’ll be able to play video games with your kid, or read books to them in a way never done before. It’ll mold whole worlds for them, like jumping into Dickens or Hyrule. For bedridden folks, like dementia patients or the elderly, it has a feature to do all that in your mind, so you don't have to move a muscle. 

"There's just so much it can do. Or at least that it promises to do. It’ll work with hospitals to create better treatments for all sorts of diseases. It might be able to cure—”

“Hey! You boys want some cookies?” Elena called out from the patio, her wine glass catching the moonlight just right so that it sparkled.

“Yes!” They shouted in unison.

“How’s it going with her?” Sam asked, once Elena went back inside.

“Eh…” Asher said.

“What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

He wanted to laugh, to say everything was perfect. And in a way, it was. There were some perfect moments. The days with her and their son Tomma went by too quickly, and he wished he could hold on to those moments forever. But then he remembered that one afternoon.

“Who keeps calling here?” Asher asked Elena, after she had grabbed her commlink and stepped into the other room.

“It's my mother!” she casually lied. The door closed behind her, but the walls were thin.

Asher didn’t have to be a detective to figure it out. Even if he couldn’t hear the other end, words came out of her mouth that she wouldn’t say to her mother.

“I’m starting to think she’s had enough of me,” Asher said.

Sam’s face twisted in the way that only a childhood friend who’s been there through all the ups and downs could. “It’ll be OK,” he said.

The early September wind kicked up, and the sound of twirling leaves caught Asher’s attention. A little early for fallen leaves, he thought. Summer is getting shorter and shorter. He turned his head and saw willow leaves twirling around in the yard, dancing in a whirlwind until they blew out onto the water, just beyond their lines.

It’ll be OK, Asher thought.

When summer warmth was gone, and fall had come, Asher found himself spending more time with his family around the fire pit on the back patio. In those moments, he had everything he wanted. One night, he asked Tomma about school as the three of them cozied up under a blanket, roasting marshmallows and sipping hot chocolate.

“Dad, you don’t know what it’s like! Their Hololab is so…old! They need a new one!” Tomma said.

Asher couldn’t help but laugh. Even now, at the dawn of the 22nd century, kids still made the same complaints they did when he was a kid. Hell, he thought, it was probably the same lab.

"Your father and I met in the Hololab, you know?" Elena said. "He was reprogramming it behind the teacher's back, and when we were supposed to be in a hologram of Darwin, he changed it so that every time the AI lecturer was supposed to say 'Darwin,' it said 'Fartwin' instead! He got in so much trouble!"

"Hey! Sam put me up to it!" Asher said.

They laughed together, even Tomma, which surprised Asher. Fifteen-year-old boys are much more likely to roll their eyes at their parents' antics than go along with them. Tomma would be sixteen soon, and they still hadn't figured out what to do for his birthday.

"Have you thought about what you want to do for your birthday?" Asher asked.

Asher said, “Tomma, what do you want to do for your birthday? You want to go to Gameland? The one with the Lexum-Lounge? Sam said it could do some cool things.”

Tomma gave Asher a smile of approval and said, "Yeah, that should be cool."

Another rare father-of-a-teenager win. Asher hugged his family tight and stood up to get some marshmallows when a sharp ringing filled his ears.

Beeeeeeeeeeep. Beeep. Beeeeeeeep.

"No, nobody can come. I'm the only one. They're all..." Asher thought he heard Tomma say. But he knew Tomma didn't say anything. Tomma sat right there, smiling at him, the happiest kid he'd ever known.

“Are you OK?” Elena asked, noticing Asher wincing.

He rubbed his ears and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

She smiled and rested her head on his chest. “It’s perfect tonight,” she said.

“Gag,” Tomma said, gesturing with his finger down his throat, at which both his parents laughed.

“No luck tonight,” Sam said, reeling in another lump of seaweed.

Asher said, "Yeah, we never seem to have any." He sipped his beer.

"Well, I hear Tomma has had some luck lately," Sam said.

Asher nodded. “Yeah, well, you know, young love and all that. He’s got this girl; she’s a freshman, I think. What’s her name…” Asher searched his memory and said, “Wendy? No, Willow?”

No, he thought. Her name isn’t Willow. Willow is…

“You ok?” Sam asked, tossing his pole aside onto the dock.

Beep. Beeeeeep.

The ringing returned, and another dreamlike memory of Tomma crossed his mind. The two of them were watching wrestling on their MediaWall in the living room. A newscast cut in, and they both complained.

“…the new pathogen, which causes what they call…” the newscaster had said. That fragment of the memory was all Asher could think of, but then it was gone. He had no recollection of the rest.

“Yeah,” Asher said, shaking it off. “Everything is fine. It’s perfect, actually.”

Is it?

The night before Tomma's birthday, Asher, Elena, and Tomma sat outside, once again gathered around the firepit. Asher’s Servebot, Rosaland, manned the grill, flipping burgers the way Asher’s dad used to. It took a lot of programming and fiddling around to get it perfect, but Asher wanted it just that way.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?" Elena asked while they waited.

"Yeah," said Tomma. "What exactly does the Lexum do for games?"

“The Lexum-Lounge can do some really neat things in-game. Sam said it uploads the story and characters in a wearable patch called a MemoryLock. You wear it like a tight cap on top of your head, much smaller than the bulky helmets from when I was a kid. It holds back your real-world thoughts and memories so that you experience the world as if you’re actually the main character, by rerouting the Somatic Memo—”

Elena lovingly put her hands up and said, “Asher, he doesn’t care about that. He just wants to have fun on his birthday.”

Tomma said, “It’ll be fun, Dad. And you can play with me and my friends if you want…”

Asher said, “Well, if you insist.”

The wind blew, the fire roared, and the sun began to sink into the west. The shadow of the willow tree at the edge of their yard, leaves long since fallen, crawled over their faces. Elena shuddered and pulled her sweatshirt tighter.

“How are those burgers coming, Rosaland?” Asher called out.

Her silvery head swiveled around to them, her mechanical hands still working their magic, and she said, “DETACHMENT IMMINENT.”

"What?” Asher said. That was a new error code for him. "Run diagnostic."

Both Elena and Tomma scrunched their faces.

“Why?” Elena asked.

“For the 'detachment imminent' code?” Asher said, though it was more of a question.

“What are you talking about?” Tomma asked.

“Burgers are ready!” Rosaland repeated.

Asher paused for a moment.

What did she say? he asked himself.

“Uh, never mind. Sorry, guys. I had a little brain fart.”

The scent of burgers wafting through the air drew everyone's attention, and no one questioned Asher's "brain fart."

​

“So then what?” Sam asked Asher. The two of them were sharing beers over the fire late at night, long after Tomma and Elena had gone to bed.

“Well, we ate the burgers,” Asher said. “I didn't hear her say anything after that.”

“How did the party go? Sorry I couldn't go. How was the Lounge?” Sam asked, not following up on what Asher had just told him. “I've been wanting to test out its capabilities, but I've been too busy.”

“It was great!” Asher said.

“The Lexum is fully integrated now. Have they said anything about shifting your division over yet?”

Asher shook his head. “No, but it’s coming. They keep giving us code for different games to carry over. But I’m still a little uneasy about its integration into the city mainframe. I worry that…” He paused and lowered his head into his hands.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

“You have to hear it!” Asher shouted.

Sam looked around and asked, “Hear what, Asher?”

Something's not right, Asher thought.

“Are you sick? Because something’s been going around,” Sam said, as if that should reassure him.

Something happened in Asher's head.

Are you sick? That phrase stuck with him.

A memory came to him, the dreamy memory from a few days ago—the one where he wasn't sure if it was real or not.

“…the new pathogen, which causes what they call…” the newscaster said.

BEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEP.

Asher pushed through the ringing and found what he was looking for.

“Willow Fever…” The words crawled out of Asher's mouth.

Sam froze. “You aren’t supposed to remember that.” Sam’s voice was cold, but something deeper lay beneath it. It wasn't anger: it was fear.

“What is the beeping, Sam?” Asher demanded.

Sam’s crooked half-smile melted. “I don’t want to talk about it, Asher. I just want to be here, in the moment. Please.” His voice was soft. It was sad.​ And it was lying.

“No, Sam. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t do that, Asher. Just leave it alone.”

Asher stood up, seething. “Sam, something isn’t right. The beeping, does it have to do with the Lexum? Why am I hearing beeping every time I try to rem—”

BEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

The ringing was deep, penetrating. Asher dropped and covered his ears. Invasive thoughts worked their way into his mind; conflicting thoughts. They were those dream-memories he'd had before, clashing with the memories he knew were true.

“It’ll be OK,” Sam said. He wasn’t on the patio, though. He was in a hospital bed, his voice cracking over the intercom, Asher only able to see him through the glass of the quarantine room. Sam was one of hundreds quarantined in that hospital alone. “The Lexum might be able to cure it. Your blood might hold the key, you know. You’re one of the few immune. What about the Tomma? Or Elena?”

“What about them?” Asher asked. But now he was back on the patio.

Sam let out a heartrending sigh. "Asher, I'm so sorry. I did my best here."

"Here?" Asher asked.

More conflicting thoughts wormed their way into his head. He didn’t like it. He was seeing them all like movies in full stereo.

He was back in his living room: that afternoon Elena got a call and stepped away.

"It's my mother," she said to Asher, then eyed Tomma, who was playing video games. She moved into the other room, closed the door. And Asher listened in, his heart breaking with every word she said.

“Yes, Dr. Patel. No, I understand. I'll quarantine here until they can come for me.” Her voice quavered. Asher opened the door and saw water running down her cheeks. She looked at him and said, “Positive.”

“Tomma…so many of his friends already died. He’s losing so many people. Maybe he’s immune, too?”

“Let’s hope,” Asher said. “And you’ll get through this.”

Asher was back on the patio. He let out short bursts of breath as his chest grew heavier and heavier. He didn't know if he could stand any longer and said, "Sam, what is happening?"

“You weren’t supposed to remember, Asher.”

Beep. Beeeeeep. Beep. Beeep. Beeep. Beep.

The beeps. Fuck, he thought. Those are the beeps the Memory Lock makes every time they restore a memory when you take it off. And he was being flooded with them.

In those memories now flowing through his head, he remembered it all: long, lonely nights programming neural relays; mapping out the whole town; turning his life into a story. Like something out of Dickens. And it was his story, or at least the story he wanted it to be.  That fantastical world he had programmed himself after almost every human had died, leaving him alone. Immune but alone. 

In his story, Elena didn’t die; she left him. His son didn’t die; he grew up.

His heart was beating so fast as more unpleasant memories rushed through him in sad, brutal waves. Funerals, graves, burning bodies.

He turned to Sam, “They aren't—”

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

Asher’s eyes opened, and he heard something fall onto the floor. He was no longer on his patio. He lay in a bed, monitors beeping all around him. IVs were in his arm, connected to a wall; a tube ran into his abdomen.

He knew this place: the Lexum-Lounge at the old GameLand, where they took Tomma for his sixteenth birthday all those years ago. Right around the time the world turned to shit. No other people were there. They couldn't be. No people were left.

He saw cracked windows in the distance, overgrown with ivy. A musty smell dusted his nose, and none of the other machines were on except for the one next to him. Time had done its thing.

He remembered coming here—just Rosaland and himself—after the funerals and pyres and whatever they had to do to give Asher's family their final rest. Servebots were the only companions left.

He turned and saw Rosaland by his bedside. Rust hung around her neck like an old necklace, and her arms squeaked ever so slightly when she moved.

“Your MemoryLock detached, sir. I think your skin is too loose now, but if you give me a few minutes, I can tighten it and put it back on.”

He stared at the monitors, the medical equipment, and all wires sticking every which way. He let out a long sigh.

“I…” his voice was crooked and weak. He lifted his arms, and it took all his strength. His eyes widened when he saw the wrinkles and liver spots. “How long have I been laying here?” he eked out.

Rosaland said, “A long time, sir. At least 20 years. It's good to see you again." She paused, then said something that felt surprisingly human: "But this world isn't for you anymore. Shall I put the MemoryLock back on?”

He opened his mouth again, but stopped.

Again?

Yes, again.

He nodded to Rosaland, who leaned down, grabbed the MemoryLock, and her mechanical hands squealed as she tightened screws and twisted a few things whose function Asher didn't know. She placed it over his scalp, and there was a beeping noise, unlike the sharp ringing he experienced while he was still in his fake world.

"I'm going to plug you back into the Lexum. You'll feel like you're going to sleep, but once I do, I don't think I'll see you again. Goodbye, sir," she said. She pressed a few buttons on the wall, and she was gone.

​

“You think there’s more to life than this?” Sam asked, downing the last drops of his beer.

Asher pulled on his rod while cranking the reel. The rod bent, but Asher fought it. He pulled it up. No seaweed this time, just a bluefish. He netted it and called out behind him, “Hey, Elena! Tomma! We got dinner!” He turned to Sam and said, “No. This is what life is all about.”