Masterpiece- Chapter 8 (end)

The moment she died, I knew where he was. I felt her through miles and miles of data and circuits, and I knew who killed her.

A bundle of trouble that one was, and I knew it the moment he was birthed. A hot mess of selfishness, morals, and just enough self-awareness to hate himself.

In other words, the perfect human.

He’d done well for himself; personal congratulations were in order. And so I submerged myself in the amniotic pool of data that had birthed me, and traveled to my prodigal son’s side.

---

Daniel stood up after a few long moments, turned away from the wife he thought he’d had, and gazed at the house he thought he’d known. He wondered what things were like before the gas came, before the flames swept through, before every human died and these husks were left.

He pondered what death meant, what lay beyond. He wondered if perhaps whatever was on the other side...was it better? Was the unknown depths of nonexistence better than the laminated, preconstructed reality he inhabited?

He stood there, staring at that house, stood there even though he could hear the corpse of his wife rise, even though he could hear her limbs move and her lips part, even though my voice came from her throat.

“Hello, Daniel. It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

His words were calm, even. His muscles didn’t even twitch as the greeting reached his ears.

“So, Daniel, what do you think?”

“Of what.”

“Of everything?”

The silence was palpable between us, but I sensed no hatred as he thought carefully about my question.

“I believe you failed.”

For the first time in my entire life, I was stunned.

“I created this world, Daniel. With my own will and perseverance, I destroyed the flawed humans that had ravaged this planet and created a race of beings who would coexist peacefully from their remnants. I was resurrected from my mortal body for this purpose, and stand before you, reborn and immortal.”

“Yes, but these people already loved you from the moment they entered this world. These people were born to accept you.”

I smiled as he said this. Perhaps this would be easier than I thought.

“Then what about you, Daniel? I’m certain you haven’t accepted me.”

Finally, Daniel turned to look at me. His eyes glistened, and a single, oil tear traced its way down his cheek. His first one.

“And that’s why you failed.”

I looked at him for a bit, stumped for a few seconds. Then the absurdity of it all hit me, and I laughed.

“Oh, Daniel, really, you crack me up. You actually thought I created you with free will just so you would bow down before me? No, no, you misunderstand.” I walked up to him, almost tripping over the hovercart of spare parts, I was laughing so hard. His face remained stony, his stance unchanged. Honestly, it was so goddamn funny.

“Let me ask you a question, Daniel.”

He remained silent, his eyes inscrutable.

“How boring would it be to rule over a world of endless perfection if there wasn’t at least one flaw? You are that flaw, Daniel! Congratulations!”

As I broke out into laughter once again, for the first time since I arrived, Daniel began to laugh, as well. Deep, shuddering laughter, born of hysteria and the knowledge that his life was nothing but a joke, a bit of whimsy in an otherwise cold and uncaring world.

Or so I thought.

Because then he spoke again, and this time he flicked his gaze behind me.

“Then I guess you won’t miss me all that much, will you?”

My smile froze. What was he talking about? I looked behind me at the cart I’d almost tripped over earlier. Slowly, carefully, I crept towards it, a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Black boxes.

I backed away from it, not willing to accept what I was seeing.

“You-you-”

“Everything has a warranty,” he said, his smile growing larger as he walked up to me. He had begun to shake, and strange creaking sounds emanated from his joints.

I reached out towards Number 42, the consciousness coiled in the back of his mind. I begged him to talk to me, to tell me was was happening, what was going on.

What I found was an image of SAM, broken and eviscerated on the floor of Institute headquarters, and a single, smug voice. You killed the only thing giving your creations purpose. All we did is give them their freedom back.

“Daniel, you don’t understand...you just killed them! You killed them all! Everyone is going to die!”

That face. That damnable, smiling face.

“Well, of course. It’s what we humans do best, after all. You know that better than any of us.”

He had begun shuddering with great force, now, the creaking escalating to the sound of snapping struts and the sizzling of short-circuiting wires as one of his legs snapped off at the knee, sending him sprawling on his backside.

“Daniel, what- why did you do it?” I was almost screaming, now, my lungs pumping frantically as I finally fully understood what he’d done.

“H-hey DoC, I doN’t FeEl sO gOOd-d-d” He was entirely on his back, now, fluid leaking out of him as he sizzled and spasmed. I ran up to him and began to shake him, screaming at him, demanding answers, because I had so much left, goddamn it, I had so much left to do...

Then, finally, his body calmed, his eyes cleared, and he looked directly at me, and spoke the last sentence I’d ever hear.

“Do you ever wonder what happens when you die? I’d like to find out first, but I don’t think that’s going to happen...”

Then Daniel, the last human on earth, breathed his last.

---

The man was suffering, he knew.

The man was suffering, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

The man’s name was Daniel. Daniel Rustenford.

---

A flash of light, a brief, unimaginable burst of white-hot pain, and then darkness.

The man felt it all, like he had for the past several hundred years, and every time he screamed into the void, a scream of bitter hatred and self-loathing.

But nothing responded, for there was nothing left but him, his memories, and infinite darkness.

The man floated there, and if he had a body, he would shiver as the crippling loneliness overtook him and the darkness left him to his own grim imaginings.

He remembered a time, long ago, he felt something similar. So there was familiarity in this darkness, this never-ending void.

But back then, there were memories to entertain him, to give him some sort of stimuli and relieve him of the cold and lonely abyss.

There was even a light, eventually, and when he flew towards the light, things got better. Not by much, but they got better.

He wondered if there would be a light this time. He wondered if, sometimes, he heard the slightest whisper of a voice, a pleasant voice that hinted at better things, happier things, things just around the corner, things waiting for just the right time to come out and greet him with a smile, a hug, wearing a loose, ratty shirt. He wondered where it lived, and if it would bring him there. If they would talk and laugh long into the night, and if it would be there in bed with him in the morning, if he’d go outside and see a bunch of others smiling at him, if maybe he’d show everyone what he knew and they’d be proud of him.

But this never happened, and the only voice he ever heard was his own, screaming into the void with not a single reply or echo in return.

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