AN: Never, EVER, under any circumstances, read Margaret Atwood the same time as Douglas Adams and Jerry Spinelli. The sheer unadulterated win from all three authors will chemically react in your brain and compel you to write something not very different from this. xD
I'm tilting back to my poetic Treasure-Planetty one-shotness for this. I'll get back to People Get Ready as soon as I can, but my muse is drying and I probably need a beta for it. :I Volunteers, anyone?
This was supposed to be a drabble in response to the breakdown of order and goodness in G-Rex's dystopian society (oh, gosh, that sounded... pretentious. But I swear that's my theme!), but then it went... I don't honestly know?... four pages too long?
And it has poorly-researched Las Vegas desertyness! Apologies if you spot geographical errors - let's all pretend the American landscape drastically changed in the Event and it looks any dang way it pleases. xD
Annnnd. Enjoy.
"Space isn't remote at all.
... It's only an hour's drive away if your car could go straight upwards."
- Fred Hoyle, co-author of 'Evolution from Space: a theory of cosmic creationism'
The desert was once called the Mojave, but, like most places and people under Providence, it lost its name to a number. Sixty-on, Sixty-two, Sixty-three. You are now leaving Area 64 – Entering Area 65.
The little wheelless vehicle raced along the dirty brown desert road. The sky above it was the dark blue of crude dye.
Rex cleared his throat.
"So, I was watching this documentary last night,"
Perched on the front of the self-declared 'Rex-Ride', Noah said nothing. He simply tightened his grip on what fingerholds in his friend's metallic body he could find.
The blonde boy pursed his lips further, to keep from swallowing a fly. Years ago, the equivalent to this would have been handlebar riding – two people on a bicycle, one of them pedalling. It would have been slower, safer, and – dare he say it? – normal. He knew better than to expect the ordinary from Rex, though. The Event had stolen any chance of normalcy their friendship may have had.
"It was serious stuff, bro," Rex chanced to start a conversation once more. It was the second line he'd spoken in over an hour. His voice was cracked from underuse. "About life, the universe, and everything."
"Fourty-two,"
"Pardon," Under the protection of their goggles, Rex's dark eyes blinked. His best friend's blonde hair was flapping in the wind.
"Douglas Adams." Noah muttered automatically, allowing his mouth to open as a fly smacked his cheek. He titled his head back slightly, his hair catching Rex in the face. The EVO boy didn't seem to mind.
"Who?" He asked.
Noah's expression glazed, his eyes far away. His head shifted its attention back to the road.
"My dad read the Hitchiker's Guide to me every night when I was little," It was the longest string of words he'd uttered since Rex had dragged him out of the base. "That was... before the Event."
After the Nanites, the government had 'taken initiatives'. Books with unacceptable content – pornography, heresy, engineering technology – were banned, destroyed, in large, protesting bonfires. They were a great neighbourhood event, with jell-o cubes and Tupperwares and families with red-chequered picnic mats.
Noah's mother had taken him to one, where a man took from her and chucked into the flames a copy of The Restaurant at the Edge of the Universe. He remembered coughing on the smoke.
Something's wrong, she scowled, with a world like this. People weren't meant to live this way. They can't. Just you wait, Noah, we'll crumble down on ourselves. There're only so many advancements civilisation can make before it starts going backwards.
"Do you think we're really going backwards?" Rex blinked. "I mean, well, yeah, we're living in a pretty screwed-up world right now but...?"
"I don't know," Noah said. "I honestly don't know."
There was nothing more to be said.
Just two weeks ago, Providence had found the body of an EVO here. Area 68. Once the white coats back at base figured out it was once a human, they began to refer to it, in whispers around the coffee dispenser, conspiratorially, affectionately, as 'John Smith'.
Everytown is my dwelling-place.
America is my nation.
John Smith is my calling name,
And the stars my destination.
It was a poem from a book, every copy burnt a long time ago. It lived on in the minds of the people, resonated, willing itself back into existence.
Yesterday, John Smith was cremated, in a pit, along with two dozen other EVOs. Rex watched them take the body from the morgue, dumping it, unceremoniously, into a chute.
Try not to be upset, Rex, the Doctor had told him. His soul's at peace.
How do you know that, Doc? He wasn't crying, wasn't upset. But something had felt wrong with the moment. Do you really believe it?
How do you know?
A pot of ashes from the pit bounced in the rear of the Rex-Ride. Whatever remains of John Smith Rex could scoop with his bare hands without getting caught. There were, of course, the ashes of other lives in there, two-dozen others burnt with John, and then some. He couldn't remember the last time the pit was cleaned.
He stopped, Noah the Hood Ornament shuddered with the change in G-forces.
"We're here."
The desert ended, abruptly, in a cliff – the sort coyotes would miss as they chased flying roadrunners, only to find themselves running on air that had long ceased to support their weight. Noah recalled the cartoons.
The sky danced around the edge of the desert, seeming to stretch for an inky infinity in every direction. Noah could see no ground below, nothing but thin air and sky accompanied them. The stars hung, numerous and crystalline-white in the sky. It looked, to Noah, like a bottle of silver glitter knocked over onto darkness.
"Woah," He breathed, all thoughts of bugs and silence forgotten.
"I know, right?" There was a whirring, shifting metallic grind, and Rex had found his legs again. He made his way to the edge. Noah caught sight of the stars reflected in his eyes.
"I found it myself," Rex declared proudly. "Stargazers used to watch for shooting stars from here."
He pointed to what, Noah realised, had been a signpost long ago. From back when the world was normal. The image of a telescope's silhouette was barely visible under layers of brown desert dust. The post still pointed upwards, at the unchanged, unquestioning heavens.
Rex unscrewed the jar's lid, and held its mouth into the night wind, which, in a great and beauteous dark dust, relayed the ashes into the stars. He waited patiently for the jar to empty.
And the stars my destination.
Noah watched the ceremony with reserved reverence.
There was nothing more to be said.
As if on cue, it began to rain. Not water, Noah realised, but stars. The stars were falling. White streaks darting, dancing, in the night. His eyes flitted hungrily across the sky, struggling to take it all in.
"It's..." He admitted, a hint of a smile forming on his upturned face. "It's beautiful,"
For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the stars. Then:
"So," Rex began once more. "I was watching this documentary last night,"
"What about?" Noah blinked, drawn back from the stars into the mundane.
"Life, the universe and everything," A chuckle. "They were talking about life, everything, all the animals and people, from monkeys, to fish, germs crawling in primordial soup. They were going on about all evolution might have come from bacteria that came stuck to..." He droned off, looking at the rain of stars before him.
"Stuck to what?"
"...Stuck to a shooting star."
The madness of the moment struck them both. Inexplicably, uncontrollably, they began to laugh, first a chuckle, then, great heaving whoops, their sides aching from the effort. Their hearts leapt in their chests as the world beyond grew bright with stars.
"Think about it," Rex gasped for breath. "Think about it. There's enough life there," he gestured beyond the edge of the universe, into the vast expanse of white rain. "Enough life there to start evolving all over again."
...We'll crumble down on ourselves. There're only so many advancements civilisation can make before it starts going backwards.
We revert to nothingness, smited by the gods and our own poor judgement. Then, life from above will begin the cycle anew. To start all over again as our souls go back to the stars.
That was life.
"You know, Rex, we're living in a pretty screwed-up world right now ," Noah agreed.
Rex smiled, squinting, trying to pinpoint the cloud of ash. John Smith was gone, eaten up by the darkness.
"Think we'll do a better job the next time around?"
"I don't know." His friend laughed. "I honestly don't know."
Their smiles were bright, alit by stars and new life. Within minutes, they'd walk back to the dirt road, ride quietly back home, their lives changed.
There was nothing more to be said.
END
Comment and concrits are loved, by the way. :3
...Is it really wrong of me to think Noah is cute? o3o" His contract-friend-cum-Ron-Weaslyness started rubbing onto me as I wrote.