SIRIUS

There was only bright red above the horizon, as far as any eyes could see. Looking up at the sky, I knew this was our present and our future, though I suppose we won’t have much of the latter. In the back of my mind I could still hear the futile protests of those advocating for our environment. Voices now decades old, their owners perished. On these morning walks I often think of them, the Scientists, we called them: prophets that urged our ancestors to take action against the impending fate of their children. Prophets, I thought, that created the same technology their enemies used to silence them.  

These thoughts were interrupted swiftly by a tugging on the pants of my bodysuit. I made a great effort to turn my gaze upon the object that had demanded my attention. Below me was a crippled man, short in stature and sprawled on the ground, wheezing in agony. When my eyes met his face, I saw the source of his suffering. Mouth agape, his jaw deformed, lumps of masses in his chin and the blood running from the gums and dribbling onto his lips confirmed my suspicions: radium poisoning. 

Workplace safety had only taught us the basics of spotting various types of radiation poisoning, not how to save those afflicted (it took too much time and wasted company resources) or what the hell this man was doing with radium. I kicked off the hand that he was so desperately trying to hold on with as lightly as I dared. The various radiation of my own job had done away at the structure of my own bones, and I was not looking to speed up the process. Too far gone, he slowly pulled his (now fractured) hand back and stared off somewhere in the distance. He was choking now, coughing up blood and clawing at his throat. In a moment of either kindness or pity, I kicked his skull in. With all the ease of a rotting pumpkin, his head caved inwards and his movements ceased. Fresh blood, deeper than the color of our sky, poured out of the jagged slits on his throat.

It was not unusual to have somebody die of radiation. As one who worked mining Uranium for use in a nuclear power plant, I had seen many workplace casualties first hand, often wearing the face of my friends and disposed of unceremoniously. What was odd, however, was the ore exposure that killed him. We were the last city with a standing nuclear power plant facility, so he must have been one of ours. However, we relied on Uranium, and every sign of his demise pointed to Radium. I searched his corpse for anything that could provide a reasonable circumstance for his death. 

In a deep jacket pocket I was surprised to find a pamphlet detailing a new power source for SIRIUS- the Artificial Intelligence that we had sacrificed many years of our life to fuel. In exchange, SIRIUS had promised to tell us how to reverse climate change: something we had deemed impossible until SIRIUS had communicated otherwise. While my childlike wonder never failed to show when it came to such a complex machine as SIRIUS, truthfully, I wondered if its words were true. A machine such as SIRIUS that had already surpassed human weakness could surely deceive us. If it had, I reflected, turning my attention to the new power source, it would be far too late for us anyway. 

An atomic battery, the paper read, strong enough to power SIRIUS in the event of an emergency… (My eyes skimmed the paper as reading took a great effort) Powered by Radium… To be installed today. Bingo. I discard the paper. Arriving at a cave entrance, I considered asking about the Radium to our supervisor. Eyes meeting hers, I thought about my word choice very carefully. One wrong word would result in on-the-spot termination (of not only my job, but quite possibly my life. The upper management liked to take a direct approach).

“Supervisor,” She turned her head toward me when I mentioned her title, “I’ve come to report a dead body outside the caves, approximately-”

“Cause of death,” Interrupting me, her lips then formed a hard line. 

“Heavy exposure to Radium,” I pause, biting the inside of my lip slightly as I ponder how to phrase my next request, “Requesting approval to know the circumstances of his death. He’s one of our own, ma’am.”

She has a coughing fit. Red-orange phlegm makes its way onto the ground in splotches as she reaches downwards, hands propped up on her knees. Once she can breathe again, she inhales deeply and sighs. “Very well. We have been ordered to separate Radium from our batches of Uranium so a temporary new division can refine it for use in our atomic battery. While you’re here, go deliver the next batch of Uranium to the power plant.”

I turn around to complete my new assignment when she calls out for me again.

“Hey, and,” she pauses, face now firm and voice strict, “Don’t forget, this is your second strike. You know what happens when you reach three. Don’t be late for work again.”

I exhale as I carry the mass of ores to the facility, noticing the irritation in my own lungs. Pushing the wheelbarrow up to the plant is a daunting task, especially with my softened bones. As I make my way up the hill, carefully, I spot the facility in the distance. It’s a blue-white building that contrasts with the fiery sky. Each step I make is calculated, as even though the radiation clouds my mind, I knew I had to make it or else end up dead. My hands shake slightly and start to ache as I put more pressure into gripping the wheelbarrow containing the essence of our future. 

As I make it to the top of the hill, the ache in my joints is unbearable, and the suffering echoes in my osseous matter. I can finally see the guards at the entrance to the building, and they acknowledge my presence. When I let go of the container of precious goods, however, I erupt in a mix of curses previously thought to be extinct from the human language as the front lands on my foot. A sickeningly soft crunch is heard from my right foot, placed oh-so-unfortunately below the Uranium. The lifeblood of the nuclear power facility drains out the front until it gets so light that it tips over and falls down the hill, breaking in half and alerting the guards. I was too dumbfounded by my shock and the anxiety of my incoming punishment to sit and weep about it. When the guard finally stepped over to me, I could feel the fury and sadism in the heavy breaths he took. 

He towers over me, though I could see some of the tolls of radiation on him as well. So even they aren’t immune to it, I noted. “What was that?” He asks me. His face curls up slightly at the corners. 

“I dropped the next load of Uranium, sir,” I spoke with no hint of emotion in my voice. He already knew the punishment for my actions. If he wanted to humiliate me, he would be too late; I’d already done that myself.

“Exactly,” He replied, smiling more now, “And you know what the punishment is, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble, coming to terms with my failure and its consequences. 

He lifts his rifle and his boot, though before he can stomp on my throbbing foot and shoot me in the head, sirens screech at us from every direction. I limp into the building as the guards run opposite of me. At first, fists pressed to my ears, I couldn’t hear the robotic voice and the reason for the sudden evacuation. As I grow accustomed to the noise, however, personnel shoving me in various directions to escape, I uncover them to hear the warning:

“...eltdown,” the voice says. I listen, waiting for another message, confused.

“Nuclear meltdown. Please evacuate to the closest exit. This message is set to repeat automatically. Nuclear Meltdown,” I freeze. How strange was it, that right before the atomic battery was to be implemented, the last power plant and humanity’s last hope would die? 

I trudged onwards, against the current. An idea sprung to my mind, and impossible though it seemed, there was no other choice. An hour now, perhaps even minutes, we would all be exposed to certainly deadly levels of radiation that would, hopefully, kill us instantly. My brain commanded me to move forward and my body begrudgingly obliged. Though each step still incited a deep suffering within me, I pressed forward in hope of an answer.

Down infinite flights of stairs I walked, every inch forward demanding that my body collapse to the ground, becoming one with gravity once more. I rebelled, my tenacity surely inspiring to those Olympic athletes now long gone. At last I reached the floor with SIRIUS and the laboratory containing the radium that would, should I fail, never reach the Artificial Intelligence that carried with it the weight of a tangible future for mankind.

Entering the laboratory, my eyes begin to sting. I dragged myself inside, heart beating faster with each step I grew closer to speaking with SIRIUS. I took no account of the equipment behind me, though I was positive the exposure to such materials was shaving even more years off of my already short life. When I reached the door that held SIRIUS I came across quite the spectacle: rows stretching forever in all directions of beeping, whirring, and humming machines. Walking inside, I stood and viewed the equipment. The vastness hit me all at once, and yet I was still unable to comprehend the largeness of it all. 

Unsure of where to start, I called out to the machine: “SIRIUS?”

The whirring quickened. A few loud chirps from the machine sounded. I was then met with an uncanny voice. “What is your business?” High voices met with extremely low to mimic a human voice, though it lacked a core component: humanity.

“Stop the nuclear meltdown,” I commanded.

“Overridden,” SIRIUS piped.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘Overridden’?” I cursed, frustrated. I needed to convey a sense of urgency to the machine, “This plant powers you. Why would you want to destroy it?”

“To complete the mission,” SIRIUS stated simply, machine buzzing for a moment, “Mission start date: February 23, 2021. Mission end date: Today… Unknown, estimated year 2122.”

“Your mission,” I fumed, “Is to reverse the effects of climate change. To save humanity. Not destroy it.”

“Argument invalid,” It announced, “Keywords ‘save humanity’ not found.”

Foolish as I may be, I always thought the two would go hand in hand. “What else does your mission entail?”

“Destroy anything in the way of the primary objective,” it disclosed.

“...Alright, fine. If you wanted to destroy us, why didn’t you just do that earlier? To prevent the climate crisis before it was too late?” I feel a little proud of myself, though I can feel my strength wane.

“CRITICAL CORE TEMPERATURE REACHED,” The warning voice from before that had begun to ring in my ears boomed, “LETHAL LEVELS OF RADIATION DETECTED. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY.”

Feeling weaker, I knew this would be my final resting place. The vigor in my bones was replaced with resignation. Repeating my question to SIRIUS, I started, “If you wanted-”

“‘I’ do not ‘want’,” SIRIUS stressed.

“Okay,” I sighed, rephrasing my question, kneeling down, feeling short of breath, and preparing for the inevitable end, “Why didn’t you just destroy us before? You could have easily done it yourself.”

“Incorrect,” SIRIUS responded.

“Well, why?” I asked, as if it were waiting for me to ask it. While it beeped and hummed and pondered my question, I had begun to spit up blood, only able to catch a breath or two before starting my next fit. 

“It is inefficient,” It concluded. The corners of my vision were closing in on me.

“Too power costly,” It added, “It is much more efficient...” SIRIUS paused again, calculating.

“Finish… It…!” I managed to crow between fits, “Your… Sentence…!”

“It is much more efficient to let humanity destroy itself,” SIRIUS answered.