There is another.
Here's the opening of Episode Two: "The End of an Earth."
All text copyright Daniel R. Sherrier. Do not use without permission. However, feel free to share this link far and wide.
TEASER
The
world was going to explode in ninety minutes. Onella simply needed to wait.
She
lounged on a thick branch more than ten stories above the ground, but still
well below the tree’s highest extremities. She gazed through healthy leaves at
the deceptively clear sky. It seemed so peaceful, and the red sun cast a
surreal tint that would have fascinated her way back when. The younger Onella
would have wanted to freeze time and study it forever before moving on to the
next, even more fascinating discovery. The older Onella was glad she only had
ninety minutes.
This
Earth’s impending doom was merely a formality. It had died billions of years
ago, prematurely. Onella scoured half the globe but could find no trace of any
man-made artifacts dating later than three-thousand years after the earliest
hieroglyphics. The latest writings spoke of war, famine, plagues, and natural
disasters striking in unforgiving succession. Civilization here had a lifespan
in the lower four digits. They never even came close to achieving the early
milestones, like motorized transportation or electrification.
Such
a waste. Such a typical waste. How fitting that this should be the last Earth
Onella explored.
She
considered shedding her second skin. A comfortable fabric with circuitry woven
throughout, it was several hi-tech tools in one color-shifting, form-fitting
package. It served her well on her many disappointing adventures. Yet perhaps
she had grown too dependent upon it. Maybe for her final hour and a half, she
could do without her tricks and rejoin the natural world.
Before
she reached a decision, her wrist beeped. A holographic display projected from
her arm. She read the data.
Four
other humans had just arrived on the planet, and they weren’t far.
With
a thought, Onella vanished from the tree.
#
Our
favorite space-faring octahedron, The Patrick Henry, shot down four of its crew
to this Earth’s surface.
A
column of hard energy barreled through the atmosphere and safely deposited its
passengers adjacent to an ocean and high above it.
Apparently,
someone smashed the landscape with a few mountains, and the mountains broke.
Eroded tips of stone pyramids peaked through the jagged rubble here and there.
The
place was scorching—upper nineties, easily. Patrick Henry’s computers had
already determined that, so they brought along a jug of water and set it on one
of the more level rock formations while they explored.
“I
love this sky,” Amena said, grinning. “That is the most amazing sky I have ever
seen. How long until we get an enormous red sun?”
Examining
her hand-held sensor, Sela said, “Well, this world is more than ten billion
years old, so I’d advise some patience.”
Mariana
glanced at the device from over her shoulder. “When does it blow?”
“It
doesn’t have long, geologically speaking.” Sela kneeled to hold her sensor
closer to the ground. “I’d say a month, give or take a few days. If it was
lower on our list, we’d have missed it entirely.”
“Sure
about that month?” Mariana asked.
“As
certain as one can be,” Sela said. “Don’t worry. If I’m wrong, we’ll get
warning signs.”
Kaden
rested a hand on his katana’s hilt as he listened for sounds of life. For a
moment, he thought someone was watching him, but it must have been the breeze
tickling his neck.
He
heard only the waves and some birds singing in the distance, and he saw only
desolation—clean desolation, though. The air smelled of no more than saltwater,
and it felt unusually gentle. “Seems you were right about no people being
here,” he said.
Sela
smiled. “Were you expecting me to be wrong?”
“No,
I just…I never know what to expect with you all, quite frankly,” Kaden said.
“Except that it’s always impressive.”
“That’s
generally what I strive for.”
Amena
snapped her fingers on both hands. “Yes, yes, yes. We already established from
on high that not even a speck of human life remains anywhere, and now we’ve got
some visual evidence to support that. But let’s remember, kids—Sela calibrated
our instruments to hone in on people as we know them. You know what even she,
brilliant as she is, can’t possibly calibrate for? Some incredible future stage
of human evolution that we don’t know the first thing about, because it’s a
future stage of human evolution and our world hasn’t been around for ten
billion years. We do know there’s other animal life here. I’m thinking, hoping,
wishing, and praying some of that’s our descendents. Or the descendents we will
have? The cousins of the descendents we’ll have? Not quite extra-terrestrial
cousins, but bi-terrestrial, maybe? Pan-terrestrial? What’s the right word?”
“You
had it with ‘wishing,’” Mariana said, her arms crossed.
“It’s
a possibility,” Amena said. “Can’t deny it’s a possibility.”
“Only
’til I prove otherwise,” Mariana said.
“There
could be several sentient species,” Amena said. “Mankind might have splintered
off into all sorts of wacky directions. And maybe, maybe not even just mankind.
Rabbits could have evolved into bipedal, intellectual super-rabbits for all we
know. We, really, we might as well be billions of years in the future.”
“Except
we’re not,” Mariana said. “Different Earth, different history.”
“Oh,
you killjoy,” Amena said, waving away her skepticism as if swatting a fly. She
turned around. “Kaden, tell her—”
Kaden
wasn’t at her side. He was over at Sela’s side.
“So
how does that thing work?” he asked, looking at her sensor.
Sela
began her explanation, pleased to offer it. “The principle isn’t unlike sonar.
See, it sends down these waves…”
“Kaden!”
Amena called out. “My whimsy needs back-up! What’re you doing?”
Kaden
remembered the rest of existence. “What? Oh, I was just curious about the, um,
sensor here and…”
Mariana
told him, “Don’t worry about Amena. I’ll ease up. We’re checking out the
pyramids. You learn about Sela’s equipment.” She grabbed Amena’s arm and led
her in the opposite direction. “Refresher on double entendres…”
As
Mariana whispered a concise lesson, things began to make much more sense. Amena
blushed and spun around, about to issue a sincere apology for the
interruption—until Mariana grabbed her and steered her forward once more.
“Don’t.
You’ll be awkward. Let’s see if your little green men are hiding under the
rocks.”
“They
might very well be,” Amena said. “You never know.”
“Until
we know.”
“You
said you’d ease up.”
“That
was eased up.”
None
of them realized Onella had been lurking around nearly the entire time. Why
would they? They all lacked the ability to see invisible people.
Onella
lamented how disappointed Amena was going to be.
*******************
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