Wish You Were Here<\/h2>\nby Donald McCarthy<\/h3>\n<\/div>\t\t\t\n\t\t\t![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.adastrasf.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/10\/story5-McCARTHY-photo-by-Massimiliano-Morosinotto.jpg\")
Photo by Massimiliano Morosinotto<\/span>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\nThere are snowmen in the desert. Two lines of them, in fact, flanking the bandstand and continuing behind it, although I can\u2019t make out how many linger back there. I doubt the world of Berrion has seen many snowmen in its time. It\u2019s hot as hell here even at the high latitude of the northern continent. The land at the equator? Intolerable for humans.<\/p>\n
Music carries across the desert. I recognize the song, a playful one from before the Exodus from Earth, but its name escapes me. The song\u2019s intensity grows as Kev and I trek closer to the bandstand. The musicians perform on a wooden platform in the sand, an endless blue sky behind them, the sun looming low on the western horizon. A brunette woman sings about needing somebody to love while four men play guitars and drums. They\u2019re dressed in all black, which must be brutal in this heat. Doesn\u2019t look like it\u2019s paying off for them, either, as the hundred or so people who mill about in front of the stage barely pay the band any attention. Instead, they talk among themselves, a hint of anxiety and anticipation humming around them.<\/p>\n
My eyes are drawn back to the snowmen. All are built the same. Three large snowballs piled on top of one another, two sticks for arms, charcoal for eyes and mouths, and, yes, a carrot for the nose. Not one of them looks in danger of melting. I have no idea what to make of this sight, but it certainly does not endear me to the cult of lunatics my boyfriend brought me to.<\/p>\n
Oh. Excuse me. They\u2019re not a cult.<\/p>\n
Kev insisted on this when we rested in bed, tangled together a week ago. \u201cThey\u2019re people finding a purpose. Maybe even a solution of sorts.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could see little in the dark, but I made out his brown hair as my chin rested on his chest, his body beneath mine. I felt his stomach rise against me as he breathed. \u201cYou don\u2019t feel like you have a purpose?\u201d I asked. I left unsaid what this meant about our relationship.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not just me. It\u2019s all of us. We conquered space, and we\u2019re still a poor excuse for a civilization. Half the colonies are failing. And the other half have<\/em> failed and just won\u2019t admit it.\u201d I heard the anxiety in his voice. It\u2019s subtle, most won\u2019t catch it, but it\u2019s there. I thought about rubbing his back, but I didn\u2019t; sometimes his anxieties force me to think about things I don\u2019t want to. \u201cIf this group is right,\u201d he continued, \u201cthen we have to go. They said they\u2019ve made contact with something not of this universe. And, yes, I know that sounds crazy but whoever or whatever they got in touch with might have, I don\u2019t know, solutions.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cSolutions? To what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know. Our existence. Why we keep screwing up no matter where we go.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stayed quiet for a little bit and then asked, \u201cHow did you find these people?\u201d<\/p>\n
I could see his eyes in the dark as he looked up at me. \u201cA pamphlet on my desk at work. Addressed directly to me. Old fashioned, right? That alone caught my attention. I don\u2019t know how they knew I\u2019d respond, how they knew what I felt. But they did.\u201d He paused and added, \u201cThey call the beings they\u2019ve met the Council. I don\u2019t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what the Council is.\u201d<\/p>\n
So, now we\u2019re here. The sand invades my hair and sweat slithers across my body. During the seven mile walk from the spaceport (God forbid these lunatics arrange for vehicles), I thought about turning around every second. I think Kev needs to see this gathering, though. He needs to see this summoning fail. He\u2019s always been a bit fanciful. Our friends say my rather literal personality helps ground him. I think that means they think me a bore. Well, better a bore than a believer in whatever the hell this nonsense is. I\u2019ve read about groups like this before, albeit not this specific one. Many are religious in nature, believing they\u2019ve found a divine presence. Some have absurd names out of old religions, while others, like this one, seem to enjoy being nameless. Perhaps they think it gives them gravitas.<\/p>\n
When we reach the others near the stage, a few give us nods, but most seem confused about what to do next, although some do bop their heads along with the music. Most wander around, sometimes whispering to one another. Whoever leads this gathering has not revealed themselves. I half expect no one to show up, all of us gradually coming to terms with this being a practical joke. The presence of the snowmen certainly doesn\u2019t promise anything serious.<\/p>\n
A short blond woman separates from the crowd, approaching us. If Berrion\u2019s conditions bother her, she shows no indication. Her hair lies straight, and freckles dot her sweat-free face. \u201cHi, there,\u201d she says. \u201cWho are you two?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Becca,\u201d I say. \u201cThis is Kev.\u201d I add, \u201cAnd this was his idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughs. \u201cI love a reluctant guest. They\u2019re the ones it\u2019s fun to win over.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice is high, like a child\u2019s. It annoys me. \u201cThat\u2019d be an achievement.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Melinda,\u201d she informs us. \u201cWhere are you two from?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSimia,\u201d Kev puts in. \u201cI\u2019m a teacher. Becca\u2019s an engineer. Works on spaceships.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cVery cool,\u201d Melinda says. The bright blue sky above starts to harbor some white clouds, one of which shadows her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about you?\u201d I ask her. \u201cWhere are you from?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m from everywhere! But I was born on Chanaris.\u201d<\/p>\n
I have only the vaguest notion of where Chanaris is. One of the newer colonies, famous for its sometimes-purple skies. \u201cDidn\u2019t like it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I like to stay in motion,\u201d she says. \u201cI\u2019ve always enjoyed seeing what else is out there.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019m ready to walk away, but Kev asks, \u201cAnd what have you seen? Have you seen them<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cThem?\u201d Melinda asks. \u201cHow dramatic! But yes, I have. I\u2019m the Council\u2019s representative.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReally?\u201d Kev asks. \u201cYou\u2019ve met them?\u201d He sounds desperate, which worries me. I knew he felt lost, sure, but perhaps I\u2019ve been underestimating just how lost. Maybe seeing this summoning fail won\u2019t be good for him. Maybe it\u2019ll break something in him. I resist an urge to grab his arm and pull him back to the spaceport.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, many times, yes. They\u2019re not exactly an alien species but not human, either. Something bigger and better than both. I\u2019d say they\u2019re magnificent, but that doesn\u2019t do them justice.\u201d<\/p>\n
I put out my hand to prevent Kev from talking. This will go better in my hands. \u201cYou\u2019ve met the Council?\u201d There\u2019s a chuckle in my voice, but as soon as I say the question, I get the distinct impression of being watched. No one else looks our way, though, and I am not going to consider the snowmen.<\/p>\n
\u201cI certainly have,\u201d Melinda replies. Her smile tightens, her eyes widen. \u201cI\u2019ve been to their home, actually. It made me understand how much humanity has wasted. How much we\u2019ve ruined. It made me understand how much better it could be, too. You\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you happen to swallow or smoke something right before that little visit?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cFunny. But no. I don\u2019t need to do things like that to achieve peace now. Maybe it\u2019s different for you.\u201d She leans forward. \u201cThe existential dread used to eat me up. I\u2019m sure you know what I mean. I think almost every person does. I\u2019m offering a solution.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd how is this Council a solution?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s just say they offer an existential answer to an existential problem.\u201d She claps her hands together and her expression brightens. \u201cBut I need to get going. We\u2019re about to begin, and they\u2019ll need me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Once she\u2019s gone, I say to Kev, \u201cNot sure I\u2019d want to go with the Council if we have to put up with people like her.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stands next to me, but he\u2019s not present. His eyes have glazed over.<\/p>\n
\u201cKev,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry, sorry,\u201d he mutters. He looks even more like a boy than usual. \u201cI was just thinking about, well, the place she went to. What that\u2019d be like.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s either crazy or a con artist. Don\u2019t get your expectations for this too high.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said she\u2019s met the Council.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I can say I\u2019m still twenty. Doesn\u2019t make it true!\u201d<\/p>\n
He snorts. \u201cWhy would you want to be twenty again?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d I soften my tone. I don\u2019t want to hurt him. He\u2019ll be hurt enough when he realizes this will lead to nothing. There\u2019ll probably be some nonsense performance, maybe people saying they can feel the Council\u2019s presence, but, in the end, he\u2019ll be let down. It\u2019s not that his concerns about human civilization are wrong, I feel them, too, but I\u2019m not convincing myself that our species\u2019 mistakes can be fixed by the Council or whatever other metaphysical nonsense Melinda and her pals want to pretend they can feel.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, we\u2019ll find out soon enough,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
I shrug, eyeing the snowmen. Not even a trickle of water rolls off them despite the rising heat as the day creeps forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know what those snowmen are for?\u201d<\/p>\n
I turn to see a short, older man. He\u2019s bald and a little hunched. He squints so much that I cannot make out his eyes. \u201cNo idea,\u201d I say, not eager to make conversation with any of the other loons here. I glance to Kev, hoping he\u2019ll get me out of this, but he\u2019s talking to another couple. Not sure how he found them so fast. How long had I been staring at the snowmen?<\/p>\n
\u201cNo idea?\u201d he repeats.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, and I\u2019m not too worried about it. Although, I am somewhat curious about what their insides must be like. I assume there\u2019s something mechanical in them, and I wouldn\u2019t mind knowing it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re a mechanic?\u201d He smiles, and it hits me he was once quite handsome.<\/p>\n
\u201cEngineer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was a designer of spacecraft,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
Despite myself, a little curiosity rises thanks to finding a like-minded individual. \u201cYou designed spaceships? I\u2019ve worked on them the past decade.\u201d I have trouble imagining how someone in our field could end up in a place like this. Maybe he has a husband or wife who dragged him to this desert.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, interesting.\u201d He rubs at his nose. \u201cI\u2019m retired now, but I designed them for five decades. Good years, all things considered. As good as things can be, I suppose. Where do you work?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSimia,\u201d I say. \u201cAt the Parallel Port. I\u2019m mostly a manager of other engineers nowadays, but once an engineer always an engineer in my book. I\u2019m still a union woman.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou ever work on the VX-89?\u201d<\/p>\n
A beautiful ship. One of my favorites. I have a least favorite, too. The NR-22. Worked on that in space once. Almost died. Seven engineers were vacuumed when an airlock malfunctioned. They froze in space while screaming. But I don\u2019t want to think about that. That needs to stay buried. \u201cYes, did you design that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t take all the credit,\u201d he replies. \u201cBut I was on the team. I was onboard for its first voyage, too. Went all the way out to Wellhole. Fascinating, really. I\u2019d never been that far away from the heart of the colonies before. In fact, I\u2019d barely been away from home. But being on the outskirts, well, it\u2019s a hell of a thing. Was to me, at least.\u201d He chuckles, but there\u2019s no humor in it. The band behind us starts to wrap up, and the quiet only adds a sad tone to his words. \u201cIt was demoralizing, too. You ever been out that far?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shake my head. This, in fact, is the furthest I\u2019ve been from Simia. Maybe that\u2019s part of why I\u2019m so grouchy about this. Maybe I don\u2019t like being so far from my routines. Routines can be so comforting even when they\u2019re a pain.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe damned thing is there\u2019s nothing to see,\u201d he continues. \u201cJust nothing. That\u2019s the direction we\u2019re expanding in, too. Sure, Wellhole is the outskirts now, but in one hundred years? No, it\u2019ll be someplace further out.\u201d He waves his arm at the horizon as if there\u2019s something past the wooden platform to see. \u201cYet, there\u2019s only emptiness. Since humanity fled Earth, what have we found? Nothing. What have we achieved? Nothing. Seventy-two colonies of humans, and we all hate each other. There\u2019s our stunning success.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think that\u2019s how it was on Earth before the Exodus, too,\u201d I comment. But I take his point. That angst has been with my generation and, it appears, the generations before me. Humanity may expand, but it doesn\u2019t learn. We destroyed Earth\u2019s climate. Now, we\u2019re destroying everything out here, too. Ours is a depressing tale. \u201cI was wondering how someone as educated as you ended up here, but I think I get it now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you?\u201d the designer asks. \u201cShouldn\u2019t I be just as surprised to see someone like you here?\u201d<\/p>\n
Damn right he should. \u201cBoyfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStrange place to look for one.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laugh. \u201cNo, no. My boyfriend dragged me here. He\u2019s talking to that couple over there.\u201d But he\u2019s not. Instead, he\u2019s talking to a newcomer, a tall man with long gray hair who wears a coat that almost taps the sand. \u201cChrist, Kev is going to meet everyone here, isn\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n
The designer crosses his arms, looking out at the growing crowd. \u201cSo, if you were dragged here, then what made your boyfriend come?\u201d<\/p>\n
I pause before answering. \u201cI\u2019m still not sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s frustrating,\u201d I admit. That he\u2019s someone in my profession makes me feel comfortable with him. I don\u2019t like that I feel I need<\/em> someone to be comfortable with here, but I do. There\u2019s something off. Something that makes me need stability. \u201cI don\u2019t know what he\u2019s looking for. He seems to think the Council will have solutions to his anxieties, which is starting to make me anxious. Or maybe letting me know about anxieties I already had. I don\u2019t know. I really don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cLot of confusion in your voice,\u201d the designer replies. \u201cUnderstandable. Any fear, though?\u201d<\/p>\n
Annoyance rises at the question, and I try to tap it down. \u201cFear of what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf the Council does exist, then that\u2019s an earthshattering revelation.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEarth has already been shattered,\u201d I reply.<\/p>\n
\u201cTouch\u00e9. But I think humanity meeting the Council may even eclipse that in terms of historic events.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you afraid?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shakes his head. \u201cNot one bit, not one bit. I\u2019d be more afraid if I was on the Council\u2019s end of this, actually.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d But I know.<\/p>\n
\u201cWould you want to meet us? With our record? Imagine if we ran into an alien species and found out that they\u2019d ruined their own world and were in the process of ruining many more. I wouldn\u2019t want them over for dinner, I know that. Think about it: we must look terrifying<\/em> to outsiders.\u201d<\/p>\nHe may well be right, but I don\u2019t want to go too far down this path. I fear that the more I agree with him, the more likely he\u2019ll start proselytizing about the Council bringing a new dawn or something. \u201cI\u2019m just happy to see a fellow math geek,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom one math geek to another, I\u2019d encourage you to consider new possibilities,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019ve always found that if someone has an open mind, then you can be shocked at how quickly they\u2019ll adapt.\u201d He taps his nose. \u201cTrust me on that one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you been to a gathering like this before?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, once,\u201d he replies. \u201cMost people here are new, though. That\u2019s the point. You really only need one of these experiences, and if you\u2019re willing to come out her in the middle of nowhere, then we know you\u2019re dedicated. I only came back for a special reason. In fact, it\u2019s about to start, and they\u2019ll need me on stage.\u201d<\/p>\n
I want to ask him why, but he moves quickly, rushing through the throng of people now gathered. The crowd swallows him, and I do not see him again until he\u2019s helped onto the stage by Melinda and another man.<\/p>\n
Kev comes to my side, wrapping his arm around my waist. I think he\u2019s comforting himself as much as me. \u201cLooks like it\u2019s getting rolling,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou been making friends?\u201d I ask. I plan to give him a hard time about leaving me alone for a while, but his response makes me reconsider.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard some pretty strange things,\u201d he says. \u201cAbout the Council. About what people are afraid of. About their hopes, which are always, I don\u2019t know, ill-defined, I guess. Hoping for hope. And then there are some people sound downright nihilistic.\u201d<\/p>\n
Despite the heat, I find myself glad to have him against me. \u201cYou want to stay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d he says. \u201cI want to see what happens. I want to see if they\u2019re offering something real.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMe, too,\u201d I admit.<\/p>\n
Kev turns. \u201cReally?\u201d A few beads of sweat rest on his forehead. I resist the urge to wipe them away. I\u2019m always fixing him up. He somehow never notices how unkempt he can be.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally,\u201d I say. \u201cI\u2019m doubtful anything will happen, but, yeah, at this point, I do want to see.\u201d<\/p>\n
On stage, Melinda claps her hands together. The sound is sharp, and everyone silences. Behind her, three people stand as still as can be. One is my new friend, the designer; the other two are a man and a woman, both younger than me. Each stand about ten feet apart from the others, hands in their pockets. My designer friend seems to be fiddling with something in his pocket, but I\u2019m not sure. Behind them, the endless desert lurks.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you for coming,\u201d Melinda says. \u201cThe Council appreciates you. They will speak to you soon, once the proper arrangements have been made.\u201d She smiles, almost skipping as she strolls back and forth across the stage. \u201cI can tell some of you are excited. I can tell some of you are rolling your eyes. And I can tell some of you are scared. Well, let me assure you, you won\u2019t be letdown, and none of you are in harm\u2019s way no matter what happens up here.\u201d<\/p>\n
The three behind her stir. The looks on their faces, well, it is as if they see a sight both beautiful and horrifying. They remove something from their pockets, but I cannot tell what.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Council can only speak through new mouths,\u201d Melinda states. \u201cIt is amazing and terrible, but doesn\u2019t that describe so much of life\u2019s memorable moments?\u201d<\/p>\n
The three behind her are holding knives, I realize. But this understanding comes far too late for me to do anything. They don\u2019t hesitate, you see. I don\u2019t know if that\u2019s better or worse. It means they are true believers, I suppose. Certain in their righteousness. In their madness. They lift their arms and slit their throats in one swift motion. The noise of their skin being sliced reminds me of a zipper. The blood comes fast, happy to be let loose. None of them fall, though. They remain standing, perhaps held up by an unseen force. But they do die. There\u2019s no question about that. Their color fades, and whatever existence lies in their bodies flees through the new smiles.<\/p>\n
No one else moves. I wait for someone to run from this scene, but no one does. Maybe we\u2019re all waiting for someone to take the first step. I am not sure what to think, what a normal reaction to this should be. Kev tightens his arm\u2019s grasp around me, and I can sense the fear radiating inside him. I\u2019m not sure I\u2019ve ever felt more alone. To die is human, of course, but looking at the corpses, knowing only they knew their last thoughts, reminds me of how solitary our ends are. The designer up there will be me one day. Another meaningless death, all my minor successes forgotten once I\u2019m gone.<\/p>\n
These dreadful thoughts threaten to swallow me. They come from somewhere deep, and I know they\u2019ve always been inside. Will that be how it always is?<\/p>\n
Thank you.<\/em><\/p>\nThe voice seems as if it is nowhere and everywhere. It comes from a place of power, and it keeps me still.<\/p>\n
The Council has heard humanity\u2019s cries for help. Your people\u2019s screams are imprinted on the stars. It was not difficult for us to find you. We followed the path of your species\u2019 anguished howls. Your species has made so many mistakes, but you are the ones aware of that. For that, you deserve compassion and love. We are here to grant you both.<\/em><\/p>\nI should run. Everyone should run. But we don\u2019t. The Council\u2019s voice dances through the air, at once terrifying and calming. Melinda, damn her, was right about life\u2019s memorable moments. I realize not one word she said to us was a lie. My stomach turns, unsure how to handle that.<\/p>\n
Do not fear for the deaths of those on the stage. They are not real. They are, ah, the word you have for it would be replacements. You, too, can be replaced should you come with us. No one will know you left. You will not have to worry that your families and friends will sob. They will never know until they, too, decide to join the Council. Your replacements will be their guides.<\/em><\/p>\nI find the voice\u2019s location: it comes from three open throats. I do not know what this means, how this can be. The voice mesmerizes me in its totality. It may as well be a god. The confidence it contains makes me wonder if it\u2019s ever had a worry in the world, if it\u2019s ever seen friends die, if it\u2019s ever seen dreams fade.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is going on?\u201d Kev whispers.<\/p>\n
His voice is an abomination. \u201cQuiet,\u201d I hiss.<\/p>\n
We can give birth to your replacements right here. It will require a sacrifice, but that has already been secured. Melinda has seen beauty, and she will die to make sure you can all experience it, too.<\/em><\/p>\nMelinda bows, her blond hair bobbing. There\u2019s no fear from her. Is that insanity or magnificence? Is that an attitude I should desire or scorn?<\/p>\n
You can run from us if you want. There will be no harm done to you. But, first, see your replacements. Know that you can come with us. Understand our offer. Do not deny yourself the possibility of an existence free of the pain your species has engulfed itself in.<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cIt\u2019s worth it!\u201d Melinda shouts.<\/p>\n
Then, she is on fire.<\/p>\n
What ignites the fire is unclear, but it starts around her feet, eagerly making its way up her pants. The flames jump around her lower torso, brewing a scent of burnt meat. Melinda does not cry out, not even when the fire wraps itself around her chest. She smiles and does not stop smiling when the smoke clouds her face. She stands impossibly still and impossibly tall, just like the dead behind her, and she becomes a burning beacon of the desert.<\/p>\n
Some of the crowd begin to flee, running back to the spaceport, the cinder of a woman their breaking point. Others stand still, waiting for what comes next. \u201cShould we go?\u201d Kev asks me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I reply. That\u2019s a lie. I want to hear the voice of the Council again. Just one more time. I want to have its confidence, its fearlessness. It\u2019s not afraid of mistakes, it\u2019s not afraid of war, it\u2019s not afraid of starvation, it\u2019s not afraid of any of the fears that have long driven humans to cruelty and madness.<\/p>\n
Around us, a murmur grows. I hear words muffled together. \u201cThe snowmen. The replacements.\u201d<\/p>\n
The snowmen come apart, snow flying around us despite the hot desert air. Some of it launches from behind the bandstand, and I realize there must be rows of snowmen behind it. From the broken snowmen, come us. I see a double of Kev, naked, stepping out of a snowman, his hair wet, his eyes vacant but slowly lighting up as if awareness dawns within him. Is he seeing Kev\u2019s life? Our life together? And what does he make of it? Is it a life he\u2019s happy to step into or does he see what awaits him and wonder why he couldn\u2019t be someone else? He stumbles forward, almost bumping into a few of the other replacements.<\/p>\n
I choose not to see my own. I wonder how they\u2019ve done this. Did they capture our DNA? Or did they do something above human understanding? I recall the pamphlet Kev was given. Perhaps they knew who\u2019d come. Perhaps there was an inevitability to all this.<\/p>\n
If you are ready, we are here.\u00a0 Let your replacements take up your burden while you thrive in our care. Let them go back and guide humanity to a better place.<\/em><\/p>\nThe white clouds above turn black. Something lingers above them. A long tendril descends, breaking the clouds. The tendril ends with an open hand so large that all of us could fit on it should we choose to. It settles, palm up, a few hundred feet away. Its offer clear, it waits for our decisions.<\/p>\n
Around us, a few more people flee while Melinda\u2019s corpse continues to burn, her death giving life to our replacements. The heat of the desert makes the scent of charred meat potent. Humans, it turns out, smell no different than steak when they are cooked. Sickening how we\u2019re so disposable in the end.<\/p>\n
Kev nudges me. He gives me the same look he\u2019s given me so many times before: he wants my permission. His wide eyes are like those of a child\u2019s.<\/p>\n
I say nothing and look up. I cannot see the Council\u2019s ship above, but I know it\u2019s there. I wonder how many tendrils it has, how many others it\u2019s collected, where it\u2019s been, where it\u2019s going. \u201cYou want to go,\u201d I tell him.<\/p>\n
He takes my hand and squeezes it. He wants me to squeeze it back, to give him the indication that it\u2019s all okay. I do. I smile, and I lead him. I walk with the confidence of the Council\u2019s voice. Kev follows. He believes that I know what I\u2019m doing. So do I. It\u2019s a lie we\u2019ve silently agreed to treat as truth. We both think it\u2019s better than turning around.<\/p>\n
Others cross the desert with us. How similar are their stories to mine? Probably only different in the details. We had all arrived at the same destination: disillusion.<\/p>\n
We step onto the hand. It\u2019s soft, almost cushiony, the leathery gray skin giving as we walk across it. The three outstretched fingers curl a little, before the hand takes the twenty of us up into the sky. I look down below, my replacement and Kev\u2019s gone, probably going to the spaceport, probably going home. I wonder if they hold hands, too, and, if they do, if they do it because they want to or out of habit.<\/p>\n
There are still some replacements down there, however. The ones whose originals fled, which makes the replacements\u2019 existence as meaningless as mine had been. A few of them open their mouths in silent screams. They must realize their lack of purpose. One of them, a young man, falls to his knees, scratching at his face, scratching until he bleeds. A cruel fate, one that makes me shiver, but I remind myself they\u2019re not real. They\u2019re just replacements. I can\u2019t allow myself to think otherwise. Not at this point.<\/p>\n
The hand continues to bring us up. The desert below is soon nothing but a sandbox, although I still see Melinda burn; she has become the desert\u2019s candle. The air becomes chillier as we rise, but the Council\u2019s hand protects us. The clouds are just above. We can touch them soon. Kev was right, I reflect. He just needed me to push him to prove it. That\u2019s why we work so well together despite our differences. That\u2019s why we\u2019ll be happy together in a new place. I know it. I know we did the right thing. I do. I know\u2014<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
\u2014<\/p>\n
It\u2019s my story now. She\u2019s elsewhere, with the Council, learning the glories of worlds free from humanity\u2019s interference. Now, it\u2019s me. Me and him. Kev. Yes, his name is Kev. And we are the perfect couple, one who will be popular on Simia. Everyone will know us. Everyone will want to be us.<\/p>\n
Kev (that is<\/em> his name, although I had trouble finding it at first) and I are perfect because we are united in the purest of love: love for the Council. Love for something other than ourselves. Love for a universe free of stain. The Council offers that. One need only learn to embrace the beauty of existence\u2019s end. We\u2019ll open eyes and show humanity it\u2019d be far better for the universe for them to jump off the cliff than continue as they are. They just need the wisdom of the Council to give them a push.<\/p>\nWhen we reach the spaceport, when we first start to see the people that make up the curse that is humanity, Kev asks me, \u201cDo you think it\u2019ll be hard to convince them?\u201d<\/p>\n
I sift through the gone woman\u2019s memories. I say, \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
He squeezes my hand.<\/p>\n
END<\/p>\n<\/div>
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/i><\/div>Donald McCarthy<\/h2><\/div><\/div>\nDonald McCarthy is from Long Island, NY. He’s published short fiction with Mythaxis Magazine<\/em>, The<\/em> Baltimore Review<\/em>, Pseudopod<\/em>, Cosmic Horror Monthly<\/em>, The Grey Rooms<\/em>, among others. His non-fiction has appeared at Salon<\/em>, Undark<\/em> Magazine, The Huffington Pos<\/em>t, Nightmare <\/em>Magazine, and more. (Full list at www.donaldmccarthy.com<\/a>.)<\/p>\n
Photo by Massimiliano Morosinotto<\/span>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\nThere are snowmen in the desert. Two lines of them, in fact, flanking the bandstand and continuing behind it, although I can\u2019t make out how many linger back there. I doubt the world of Berrion has seen many snowmen in its time. It\u2019s hot as hell here even at the high latitude of the northern continent. The land at the equator? Intolerable for humans.<\/p>\n
Music carries across the desert. I recognize the song, a playful one from before the Exodus from Earth, but its name escapes me. The song\u2019s intensity grows as Kev and I trek closer to the bandstand. The musicians perform on a wooden platform in the sand, an endless blue sky behind them, the sun looming low on the western horizon. A brunette woman sings about needing somebody to love while four men play guitars and drums. They\u2019re dressed in all black, which must be brutal in this heat. Doesn\u2019t look like it\u2019s paying off for them, either, as the hundred or so people who mill about in front of the stage barely pay the band any attention. Instead, they talk among themselves, a hint of anxiety and anticipation humming around them.<\/p>\n
My eyes are drawn back to the snowmen. All are built the same. Three large snowballs piled on top of one another, two sticks for arms, charcoal for eyes and mouths, and, yes, a carrot for the nose. Not one of them looks in danger of melting. I have no idea what to make of this sight, but it certainly does not endear me to the cult of lunatics my boyfriend brought me to.<\/p>\n
Oh. Excuse me. They\u2019re not a cult.<\/p>\n
Kev insisted on this when we rested in bed, tangled together a week ago. \u201cThey\u2019re people finding a purpose. Maybe even a solution of sorts.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could see little in the dark, but I made out his brown hair as my chin rested on his chest, his body beneath mine. I felt his stomach rise against me as he breathed. \u201cYou don\u2019t feel like you have a purpose?\u201d I asked. I left unsaid what this meant about our relationship.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not just me. It\u2019s all of us. We conquered space, and we\u2019re still a poor excuse for a civilization. Half the colonies are failing. And the other half have<\/em> failed and just won\u2019t admit it.\u201d I heard the anxiety in his voice. It\u2019s subtle, most won\u2019t catch it, but it\u2019s there. I thought about rubbing his back, but I didn\u2019t; sometimes his anxieties force me to think about things I don\u2019t want to. \u201cIf this group is right,\u201d he continued, \u201cthen we have to go. They said they\u2019ve made contact with something not of this universe. And, yes, I know that sounds crazy but whoever or whatever they got in touch with might have, I don\u2019t know, solutions.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSolutions? To what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know. Our existence. Why we keep screwing up no matter where we go.\u201d<\/p>\n I stayed quiet for a little bit and then asked, \u201cHow did you find these people?\u201d<\/p>\n I could see his eyes in the dark as he looked up at me. \u201cA pamphlet on my desk at work. Addressed directly to me. Old fashioned, right? That alone caught my attention. I don\u2019t know how they knew I\u2019d respond, how they knew what I felt. But they did.\u201d He paused and added, \u201cThey call the beings they\u2019ve met the Council. I don\u2019t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what the Council is.\u201d<\/p>\n So, now we\u2019re here. The sand invades my hair and sweat slithers across my body. During the seven mile walk from the spaceport (God forbid these lunatics arrange for vehicles), I thought about turning around every second. I think Kev needs to see this gathering, though. He needs to see this summoning fail. He\u2019s always been a bit fanciful. Our friends say my rather literal personality helps ground him. I think that means they think me a bore. Well, better a bore than a believer in whatever the hell this nonsense is. I\u2019ve read about groups like this before, albeit not this specific one. Many are religious in nature, believing they\u2019ve found a divine presence. Some have absurd names out of old religions, while others, like this one, seem to enjoy being nameless. Perhaps they think it gives them gravitas.<\/p>\n When we reach the others near the stage, a few give us nods, but most seem confused about what to do next, although some do bop their heads along with the music. Most wander around, sometimes whispering to one another. Whoever leads this gathering has not revealed themselves. I half expect no one to show up, all of us gradually coming to terms with this being a practical joke. The presence of the snowmen certainly doesn\u2019t promise anything serious.<\/p>\n A short blond woman separates from the crowd, approaching us. If Berrion\u2019s conditions bother her, she shows no indication. Her hair lies straight, and freckles dot her sweat-free face. \u201cHi, there,\u201d she says. \u201cWho are you two?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m Becca,\u201d I say. \u201cThis is Kev.\u201d I add, \u201cAnd this was his idea.\u201d<\/p>\n She laughs. \u201cI love a reluctant guest. They\u2019re the ones it\u2019s fun to win over.\u201d<\/p>\n Her voice is high, like a child\u2019s. It annoys me. \u201cThat\u2019d be an achievement.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m Melinda,\u201d she informs us. \u201cWhere are you two from?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSimia,\u201d Kev puts in. \u201cI\u2019m a teacher. Becca\u2019s an engineer. Works on spaceships.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVery cool,\u201d Melinda says. The bright blue sky above starts to harbor some white clouds, one of which shadows her.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about you?\u201d I ask her. \u201cWhere are you from?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m from everywhere! But I was born on Chanaris.\u201d<\/p>\n I have only the vaguest notion of where Chanaris is. One of the newer colonies, famous for its sometimes-purple skies. \u201cDidn\u2019t like it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I like to stay in motion,\u201d she says. \u201cI\u2019ve always enjoyed seeing what else is out there.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m ready to walk away, but Kev asks, \u201cAnd what have you seen? Have you seen them<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThem?\u201d Melinda asks. \u201cHow dramatic! But yes, I have. I\u2019m the Council\u2019s representative.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally?\u201d Kev asks. \u201cYou\u2019ve met them?\u201d He sounds desperate, which worries me. I knew he felt lost, sure, but perhaps I\u2019ve been underestimating just how lost. Maybe seeing this summoning fail won\u2019t be good for him. Maybe it\u2019ll break something in him. I resist an urge to grab his arm and pull him back to the spaceport.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, many times, yes. They\u2019re not exactly an alien species but not human, either. Something bigger and better than both. I\u2019d say they\u2019re magnificent, but that doesn\u2019t do them justice.\u201d<\/p>\n I put out my hand to prevent Kev from talking. This will go better in my hands. \u201cYou\u2019ve met the Council?\u201d There\u2019s a chuckle in my voice, but as soon as I say the question, I get the distinct impression of being watched. No one else looks our way, though, and I am not going to consider the snowmen.<\/p>\n \u201cI certainly have,\u201d Melinda replies. Her smile tightens, her eyes widen. \u201cI\u2019ve been to their home, actually. It made me understand how much humanity has wasted. How much we\u2019ve ruined. It made me understand how much better it could be, too. You\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you happen to swallow or smoke something right before that little visit?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n \u201cFunny. But no. I don\u2019t need to do things like that to achieve peace now. Maybe it\u2019s different for you.\u201d She leans forward. \u201cThe existential dread used to eat me up. I\u2019m sure you know what I mean. I think almost every person does. I\u2019m offering a solution.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd how is this Council a solution?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s just say they offer an existential answer to an existential problem.\u201d She claps her hands together and her expression brightens. \u201cBut I need to get going. We\u2019re about to begin, and they\u2019ll need me.\u201d<\/p>\n Once she\u2019s gone, I say to Kev, \u201cNot sure I\u2019d want to go with the Council if we have to put up with people like her.\u201d<\/p>\n He stands next to me, but he\u2019s not present. His eyes have glazed over.<\/p>\n \u201cKev,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, sorry,\u201d he mutters. He looks even more like a boy than usual. \u201cI was just thinking about, well, the place she went to. What that\u2019d be like.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s either crazy or a con artist. Don\u2019t get your expectations for this too high.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe said she\u2019s met the Council.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I can say I\u2019m still twenty. Doesn\u2019t make it true!\u201d<\/p>\n He snorts. \u201cWhy would you want to be twenty again?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d I soften my tone. I don\u2019t want to hurt him. He\u2019ll be hurt enough when he realizes this will lead to nothing. There\u2019ll probably be some nonsense performance, maybe people saying they can feel the Council\u2019s presence, but, in the end, he\u2019ll be let down. It\u2019s not that his concerns about human civilization are wrong, I feel them, too, but I\u2019m not convincing myself that our species\u2019 mistakes can be fixed by the Council or whatever other metaphysical nonsense Melinda and her pals want to pretend they can feel.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, we\u2019ll find out soon enough,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n I shrug, eyeing the snowmen. Not even a trickle of water rolls off them despite the rising heat as the day creeps forward.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know what those snowmen are for?\u201d<\/p>\n I turn to see a short, older man. He\u2019s bald and a little hunched. He squints so much that I cannot make out his eyes. \u201cNo idea,\u201d I say, not eager to make conversation with any of the other loons here. I glance to Kev, hoping he\u2019ll get me out of this, but he\u2019s talking to another couple. Not sure how he found them so fast. How long had I been staring at the snowmen?<\/p>\n \u201cNo idea?\u201d he repeats.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, and I\u2019m not too worried about it. Although, I am somewhat curious about what their insides must be like. I assume there\u2019s something mechanical in them, and I wouldn\u2019t mind knowing it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re a mechanic?\u201d He smiles, and it hits me he was once quite handsome.<\/p>\n \u201cEngineer.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was a designer of spacecraft,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n Despite myself, a little curiosity rises thanks to finding a like-minded individual. \u201cYou designed spaceships? I\u2019ve worked on them the past decade.\u201d I have trouble imagining how someone in our field could end up in a place like this. Maybe he has a husband or wife who dragged him to this desert.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, interesting.\u201d He rubs at his nose. \u201cI\u2019m retired now, but I designed them for five decades. Good years, all things considered. As good as things can be, I suppose. Where do you work?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSimia,\u201d I say. \u201cAt the Parallel Port. I\u2019m mostly a manager of other engineers nowadays, but once an engineer always an engineer in my book. I\u2019m still a union woman.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou ever work on the VX-89?\u201d<\/p>\n A beautiful ship. One of my favorites. I have a least favorite, too. The NR-22. Worked on that in space once. Almost died. Seven engineers were vacuumed when an airlock malfunctioned. They froze in space while screaming. But I don\u2019t want to think about that. That needs to stay buried. \u201cYes, did you design that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t take all the credit,\u201d he replies. \u201cBut I was on the team. I was onboard for its first voyage, too. Went all the way out to Wellhole. Fascinating, really. I\u2019d never been that far away from the heart of the colonies before. In fact, I\u2019d barely been away from home. But being on the outskirts, well, it\u2019s a hell of a thing. Was to me, at least.\u201d He chuckles, but there\u2019s no humor in it. The band behind us starts to wrap up, and the quiet only adds a sad tone to his words. \u201cIt was demoralizing, too. You ever been out that far?\u201d<\/p>\n I shake my head. This, in fact, is the furthest I\u2019ve been from Simia. Maybe that\u2019s part of why I\u2019m so grouchy about this. Maybe I don\u2019t like being so far from my routines. Routines can be so comforting even when they\u2019re a pain.<\/p>\n \u201cThe damned thing is there\u2019s nothing to see,\u201d he continues. \u201cJust nothing. That\u2019s the direction we\u2019re expanding in, too. Sure, Wellhole is the outskirts now, but in one hundred years? No, it\u2019ll be someplace further out.\u201d He waves his arm at the horizon as if there\u2019s something past the wooden platform to see. \u201cYet, there\u2019s only emptiness. Since humanity fled Earth, what have we found? Nothing. What have we achieved? Nothing. Seventy-two colonies of humans, and we all hate each other. There\u2019s our stunning success.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think that\u2019s how it was on Earth before the Exodus, too,\u201d I comment. But I take his point. That angst has been with my generation and, it appears, the generations before me. Humanity may expand, but it doesn\u2019t learn. We destroyed Earth\u2019s climate. Now, we\u2019re destroying everything out here, too. Ours is a depressing tale. \u201cI was wondering how someone as educated as you ended up here, but I think I get it now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you?\u201d the designer asks. \u201cShouldn\u2019t I be just as surprised to see someone like you here?\u201d<\/p>\n Damn right he should. \u201cBoyfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStrange place to look for one.\u201d<\/p>\n I laugh. \u201cNo, no. My boyfriend dragged me here. He\u2019s talking to that couple over there.\u201d But he\u2019s not. Instead, he\u2019s talking to a newcomer, a tall man with long gray hair who wears a coat that almost taps the sand. \u201cChrist, Kev is going to meet everyone here, isn\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n The designer crosses his arms, looking out at the growing crowd. \u201cSo, if you were dragged here, then what made your boyfriend come?\u201d<\/p>\n I pause before answering. \u201cI\u2019m still not sure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s frustrating,\u201d I admit. That he\u2019s someone in my profession makes me feel comfortable with him. I don\u2019t like that I feel I need<\/em> someone to be comfortable with here, but I do. There\u2019s something off. Something that makes me need stability. \u201cI don\u2019t know what he\u2019s looking for. He seems to think the Council will have solutions to his anxieties, which is starting to make me anxious. Or maybe letting me know about anxieties I already had. I don\u2019t know. I really don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLot of confusion in your voice,\u201d the designer replies. \u201cUnderstandable. Any fear, though?\u201d<\/p>\n Annoyance rises at the question, and I try to tap it down. \u201cFear of what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf the Council does exist, then that\u2019s an earthshattering revelation.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEarth has already been shattered,\u201d I reply.<\/p>\n \u201cTouch\u00e9. But I think humanity meeting the Council may even eclipse that in terms of historic events.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you afraid?\u201d<\/p>\n He shakes his head. \u201cNot one bit, not one bit. I\u2019d be more afraid if I was on the Council\u2019s end of this, actually.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d But I know.<\/p>\n \u201cWould you want to meet us? With our record? Imagine if we ran into an alien species and found out that they\u2019d ruined their own world and were in the process of ruining many more. I wouldn\u2019t want them over for dinner, I know that. Think about it: we must look terrifying<\/em> to outsiders.\u201d<\/p>\n He may well be right, but I don\u2019t want to go too far down this path. I fear that the more I agree with him, the more likely he\u2019ll start proselytizing about the Council bringing a new dawn or something. \u201cI\u2019m just happy to see a fellow math geek,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cFrom one math geek to another, I\u2019d encourage you to consider new possibilities,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019ve always found that if someone has an open mind, then you can be shocked at how quickly they\u2019ll adapt.\u201d He taps his nose. \u201cTrust me on that one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHave you been to a gathering like this before?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, once,\u201d he replies. \u201cMost people here are new, though. That\u2019s the point. You really only need one of these experiences, and if you\u2019re willing to come out her in the middle of nowhere, then we know you\u2019re dedicated. I only came back for a special reason. In fact, it\u2019s about to start, and they\u2019ll need me on stage.\u201d<\/p>\n I want to ask him why, but he moves quickly, rushing through the throng of people now gathered. The crowd swallows him, and I do not see him again until he\u2019s helped onto the stage by Melinda and another man.<\/p>\n Kev comes to my side, wrapping his arm around my waist. I think he\u2019s comforting himself as much as me. \u201cLooks like it\u2019s getting rolling,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n \u201cYou been making friends?\u201d I ask. I plan to give him a hard time about leaving me alone for a while, but his response makes me reconsider.<\/p>\n \u201cI heard some pretty strange things,\u201d he says. \u201cAbout the Council. About what people are afraid of. About their hopes, which are always, I don\u2019t know, ill-defined, I guess. Hoping for hope. And then there are some people sound downright nihilistic.\u201d<\/p>\n Despite the heat, I find myself glad to have him against me. \u201cYou want to stay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d he says. \u201cI want to see what happens. I want to see if they\u2019re offering something real.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMe, too,\u201d I admit.<\/p>\n Kev turns. \u201cReally?\u201d A few beads of sweat rest on his forehead. I resist the urge to wipe them away. I\u2019m always fixing him up. He somehow never notices how unkempt he can be.<\/p>\n \u201cReally,\u201d I say. \u201cI\u2019m doubtful anything will happen, but, yeah, at this point, I do want to see.\u201d<\/p>\n On stage, Melinda claps her hands together. The sound is sharp, and everyone silences. Behind her, three people stand as still as can be. One is my new friend, the designer; the other two are a man and a woman, both younger than me. Each stand about ten feet apart from the others, hands in their pockets. My designer friend seems to be fiddling with something in his pocket, but I\u2019m not sure. Behind them, the endless desert lurks.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you for coming,\u201d Melinda says. \u201cThe Council appreciates you. They will speak to you soon, once the proper arrangements have been made.\u201d She smiles, almost skipping as she strolls back and forth across the stage. \u201cI can tell some of you are excited. I can tell some of you are rolling your eyes. And I can tell some of you are scared. Well, let me assure you, you won\u2019t be letdown, and none of you are in harm\u2019s way no matter what happens up here.\u201d<\/p>\n The three behind her stir. The looks on their faces, well, it is as if they see a sight both beautiful and horrifying. They remove something from their pockets, but I cannot tell what.<\/p>\n \u201cThe Council can only speak through new mouths,\u201d Melinda states. \u201cIt is amazing and terrible, but doesn\u2019t that describe so much of life\u2019s memorable moments?\u201d<\/p>\n The three behind her are holding knives, I realize. But this understanding comes far too late for me to do anything. They don\u2019t hesitate, you see. I don\u2019t know if that\u2019s better or worse. It means they are true believers, I suppose. Certain in their righteousness. In their madness. They lift their arms and slit their throats in one swift motion. The noise of their skin being sliced reminds me of a zipper. The blood comes fast, happy to be let loose. None of them fall, though. They remain standing, perhaps held up by an unseen force. But they do die. There\u2019s no question about that. Their color fades, and whatever existence lies in their bodies flees through the new smiles.<\/p>\n No one else moves. I wait for someone to run from this scene, but no one does. Maybe we\u2019re all waiting for someone to take the first step. I am not sure what to think, what a normal reaction to this should be. Kev tightens his arm\u2019s grasp around me, and I can sense the fear radiating inside him. I\u2019m not sure I\u2019ve ever felt more alone. To die is human, of course, but looking at the corpses, knowing only they knew their last thoughts, reminds me of how solitary our ends are. The designer up there will be me one day. Another meaningless death, all my minor successes forgotten once I\u2019m gone.<\/p>\n These dreadful thoughts threaten to swallow me. They come from somewhere deep, and I know they\u2019ve always been inside. Will that be how it always is?<\/p>\n Thank you.<\/em><\/p>\n The voice seems as if it is nowhere and everywhere. It comes from a place of power, and it keeps me still.<\/p>\n The Council has heard humanity\u2019s cries for help. Your people\u2019s screams are imprinted on the stars. It was not difficult for us to find you. We followed the path of your species\u2019 anguished howls. Your species has made so many mistakes, but you are the ones aware of that. For that, you deserve compassion and love. We are here to grant you both.<\/em><\/p>\n I should run. Everyone should run. But we don\u2019t. The Council\u2019s voice dances through the air, at once terrifying and calming. Melinda, damn her, was right about life\u2019s memorable moments. I realize not one word she said to us was a lie. My stomach turns, unsure how to handle that.<\/p>\n Do not fear for the deaths of those on the stage. They are not real. They are, ah, the word you have for it would be replacements. You, too, can be replaced should you come with us. No one will know you left. You will not have to worry that your families and friends will sob. They will never know until they, too, decide to join the Council. Your replacements will be their guides.<\/em><\/p>\n I find the voice\u2019s location: it comes from three open throats. I do not know what this means, how this can be. The voice mesmerizes me in its totality. It may as well be a god. The confidence it contains makes me wonder if it\u2019s ever had a worry in the world, if it\u2019s ever seen friends die, if it\u2019s ever seen dreams fade.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is going on?\u201d Kev whispers.<\/p>\n His voice is an abomination. \u201cQuiet,\u201d I hiss.<\/p>\n We can give birth to your replacements right here. It will require a sacrifice, but that has already been secured. Melinda has seen beauty, and she will die to make sure you can all experience it, too.<\/em><\/p>\n Melinda bows, her blond hair bobbing. There\u2019s no fear from her. Is that insanity or magnificence? Is that an attitude I should desire or scorn?<\/p>\n You can run from us if you want. There will be no harm done to you. But, first, see your replacements. Know that you can come with us. Understand our offer. Do not deny yourself the possibility of an existence free of the pain your species has engulfed itself in.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s worth it!\u201d Melinda shouts.<\/p>\n Then, she is on fire.<\/p>\n What ignites the fire is unclear, but it starts around her feet, eagerly making its way up her pants. The flames jump around her lower torso, brewing a scent of burnt meat. Melinda does not cry out, not even when the fire wraps itself around her chest. She smiles and does not stop smiling when the smoke clouds her face. She stands impossibly still and impossibly tall, just like the dead behind her, and she becomes a burning beacon of the desert.<\/p>\n Some of the crowd begin to flee, running back to the spaceport, the cinder of a woman their breaking point. Others stand still, waiting for what comes next. \u201cShould we go?\u201d Kev asks me.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I reply. That\u2019s a lie. I want to hear the voice of the Council again. Just one more time. I want to have its confidence, its fearlessness. It\u2019s not afraid of mistakes, it\u2019s not afraid of war, it\u2019s not afraid of starvation, it\u2019s not afraid of any of the fears that have long driven humans to cruelty and madness.<\/p>\n Around us, a murmur grows. I hear words muffled together. \u201cThe snowmen. The replacements.\u201d<\/p>\n The snowmen come apart, snow flying around us despite the hot desert air. Some of it launches from behind the bandstand, and I realize there must be rows of snowmen behind it. From the broken snowmen, come us. I see a double of Kev, naked, stepping out of a snowman, his hair wet, his eyes vacant but slowly lighting up as if awareness dawns within him. Is he seeing Kev\u2019s life? Our life together? And what does he make of it? Is it a life he\u2019s happy to step into or does he see what awaits him and wonder why he couldn\u2019t be someone else? He stumbles forward, almost bumping into a few of the other replacements.<\/p>\n I choose not to see my own. I wonder how they\u2019ve done this. Did they capture our DNA? Or did they do something above human understanding? I recall the pamphlet Kev was given. Perhaps they knew who\u2019d come. Perhaps there was an inevitability to all this.<\/p>\n If you are ready, we are here.\u00a0 Let your replacements take up your burden while you thrive in our care. Let them go back and guide humanity to a better place.<\/em><\/p>\n The white clouds above turn black. Something lingers above them. A long tendril descends, breaking the clouds. The tendril ends with an open hand so large that all of us could fit on it should we choose to. It settles, palm up, a few hundred feet away. Its offer clear, it waits for our decisions.<\/p>\n Around us, a few more people flee while Melinda\u2019s corpse continues to burn, her death giving life to our replacements. The heat of the desert makes the scent of charred meat potent. Humans, it turns out, smell no different than steak when they are cooked. Sickening how we\u2019re so disposable in the end.<\/p>\n Kev nudges me. He gives me the same look he\u2019s given me so many times before: he wants my permission. His wide eyes are like those of a child\u2019s.<\/p>\n I say nothing and look up. I cannot see the Council\u2019s ship above, but I know it\u2019s there. I wonder how many tendrils it has, how many others it\u2019s collected, where it\u2019s been, where it\u2019s going. \u201cYou want to go,\u201d I tell him.<\/p>\n He takes my hand and squeezes it. He wants me to squeeze it back, to give him the indication that it\u2019s all okay. I do. I smile, and I lead him. I walk with the confidence of the Council\u2019s voice. Kev follows. He believes that I know what I\u2019m doing. So do I. It\u2019s a lie we\u2019ve silently agreed to treat as truth. We both think it\u2019s better than turning around.<\/p>\n Others cross the desert with us. How similar are their stories to mine? Probably only different in the details. We had all arrived at the same destination: disillusion.<\/p>\n We step onto the hand. It\u2019s soft, almost cushiony, the leathery gray skin giving as we walk across it. The three outstretched fingers curl a little, before the hand takes the twenty of us up into the sky. I look down below, my replacement and Kev\u2019s gone, probably going to the spaceport, probably going home. I wonder if they hold hands, too, and, if they do, if they do it because they want to or out of habit.<\/p>\n There are still some replacements down there, however. The ones whose originals fled, which makes the replacements\u2019 existence as meaningless as mine had been. A few of them open their mouths in silent screams. They must realize their lack of purpose. One of them, a young man, falls to his knees, scratching at his face, scratching until he bleeds. A cruel fate, one that makes me shiver, but I remind myself they\u2019re not real. They\u2019re just replacements. I can\u2019t allow myself to think otherwise. Not at this point.<\/p>\n The hand continues to bring us up. The desert below is soon nothing but a sandbox, although I still see Melinda burn; she has become the desert\u2019s candle. The air becomes chillier as we rise, but the Council\u2019s hand protects us. The clouds are just above. We can touch them soon. Kev was right, I reflect. He just needed me to push him to prove it. That\u2019s why we work so well together despite our differences. That\u2019s why we\u2019ll be happy together in a new place. I know it. I know we did the right thing. I do. I know\u2014<\/p>\n \u2014<\/p>\n \u2014<\/p>\n \u2014<\/p>\n It\u2019s my story now. She\u2019s elsewhere, with the Council, learning the glories of worlds free from humanity\u2019s interference. Now, it\u2019s me. Me and him. Kev. Yes, his name is Kev. And we are the perfect couple, one who will be popular on Simia. Everyone will know us. Everyone will want to be us.<\/p>\n Kev (that is<\/em> his name, although I had trouble finding it at first) and I are perfect because we are united in the purest of love: love for the Council. Love for something other than ourselves. Love for a universe free of stain. The Council offers that. One need only learn to embrace the beauty of existence\u2019s end. We\u2019ll open eyes and show humanity it\u2019d be far better for the universe for them to jump off the cliff than continue as they are. They just need the wisdom of the Council to give them a push.<\/p>\n When we reach the spaceport, when we first start to see the people that make up the curse that is humanity, Kev asks me, \u201cDo you think it\u2019ll be hard to convince them?\u201d<\/p>\n I sift through the gone woman\u2019s memories. I say, \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n He squeezes my hand.<\/p>\n END<\/p>\n<\/div> Donald McCarthy is from Long Island, NY. He’s published short fiction with Mythaxis Magazine<\/em>, The<\/em> Baltimore Review<\/em>, Pseudopod<\/em>, Cosmic Horror Monthly<\/em>, The Grey Rooms<\/em>, among others. His non-fiction has appeared at Salon<\/em>, Undark<\/em> Magazine, The Huffington Pos<\/em>t, Nightmare <\/em>Magazine, and more. (Full list at www.donaldmccarthy.com<\/a>.)<\/p>\nDonald McCarthy<\/h2><\/div>