The Plaything of Irony

Chapter 1: Friend

Underneath a violet sun, on a hilltop, sat a man. He wasn’t watching the swelling sun descend, or the secondary reflection of the sun for that matter. Nor was he looking out over the field of trees or the forests of grasses beyond. He was far too tired of all the strange phenomena that plagued the Earth these days. No, he was unconcerned with it all, and instead busied himself with the tinkering of something in his glove.

There was a time when he still found parts of the world around him beautiful despite its seismic shift from before. But at some point, acknowledging these differences only reminded him of his overwhelmingly bleak reality. The nuclear fallout seemed to have affected everything—everything except for him. How was he the only person lucky enough to survive? The man let out a slight chuckle. If he had learned anything these past few years, this wasn’t called luck; it is called a curse. A curse that, as of recently, filled his days with only hopelessness and sorrow. 

The man shook his head, hoping to dispel his spiraling thoughts. He glanced down at his homemade compass, squinting to read the needle in the fading light. For whatever reason, it was reading that North was East and South was West. It had been all over the place in accuracy ever since he assembled it. He suspected that the needle was being hindered from a frictionless swivel, so he took it off to examine the axle. A slight buzzing sound filled the air beside him. The man spoke to it.

“Jig, give me a light, will you?”

The drone obeyed, casting a glow on the dismantled pieces. The man leaned forward in focus, his bulky radiation suit scrunching around him. 

A wind swept up from the field below, tossing the knee-high trees. The man jolted, trying to steady the fragile contraption. Yet it was to no avail, and the pieces fell apart in his glove.

“Blasted wind,” mumbled the man. His gloves were shaking with frustration.

“Reminder for Adam: Please head back to the settlement. Nighttime is no longer hospitable for humans.”

“Human, singular,” Adam corrected. “And I’ll be heading back soon. I’m just trying to figure this out.”

“Reminder for Adam: This compass isn’t necessary as you never need to be far enough away from your settlement to use it.”

Adam didn’t respond. Not all of Jig’s “reminders” were helpful. After a few minutes, Adam pushed himself to his feet and stuck the reconstructed compass back in his pocket. Jig was right—this compass didn’t matter, same as everything else. For a moment, he looked upward toward the budding night sky. But he only saw past the stars into the encompassing darkness. It felt like it was pervading all things. 

“Reminder for Adam: Watch your step here.” Jig was a few feet in front of him, pointing his light at a boulder.

Adam turned his attention to Jig, then started walking along the crest of the hill, back toward the settlement.

After a few paces, he came to a sheer cliff on one side, over which the coming darkness made it look like a never-ending drop. Adam stopped. So much darkness. He felt it inside himself. His breathing intensified. Pebbles crunched under his feet as he turned and stepped closer to the edge. And then he stepped closer still. The air was free, playing before him in the open expanse. Could it make him free? He was breathing even harder. He took another step forward. The tips of his boots were hanging over the side. He felt sharp drafts tugging at him, inviting him to the void. Then a familiar buzzing approached, and he felt Jig’s little metal pincers yank him back. Adam took a few backward steps to catch his balance. 

Jig nervously fumbled with his pincers. “Reminder for Adam: You wouldn’t survive that fall.”

“Who else cares anyhow?” snapped Adam, exposing his thoughts. For a few moments, only the wind could be heard as it carved along the surroundings.

“Well, I do,” came the soft metallic voice of Jig.

Adam felt bad. They continued toward home in silence.

As they passed a stream less than a mile away from the settlement, Jig tried to make conversation with Adam. “What direction does your compass read now?”

Adam reached back into his pocket. Jig concentrated his light on the compass face. At first, the needle swung around, calibrating to the magnetic fields. But then, the needle jumped. Adam furrowed his brow. Never had his needle jumped before. The needle jumped again. Adam noticed with this second time a simultaneous vibration came from the ground, and then another—almost a clomping.

“WATCH OUT!” Jig broadcasted loudly.

Adam looked up just in time to see some shadowy silhouette crash into him. The collision made a deep smacking sound as several structural components in Adam’s suit gave way. He tumbled back on the ground. The little trees snapped underneath. Before he could get up, the animal was on him again. He felt a crushing force on his ankle as it bit down.

“AHHH!” Adam screamed through raw pain. The glint of a darkened eye turned his way in realization that the sound came from the head on the other side of the prey. It clawed up his body to get to it, reducing the chest area of his suit to tatters. A hissing noise filled the air as oxygen and pressure leaked out. A momentary thought passed through Adam’s mind as the animal’s jaws opened.

So this is how it ends. Humanity made extinct by nature. We are but a plaything for irony. 

A sudden burst of loud bangs erupted in the air right above. Jig had set off a string of flares. The creature on top of Adam was suddenly illuminated in a sinister red light. It had the face of a lion, but long slits on its neck, almost gill-like. In response to the noise, the creature’s ears flattened, and it retreated off Adam’s contorted frame. The flares continued. With one final look, the creature turned away and slipped into the nearby stream. The surface of the water returned again to its smooth torsional flow as if nothing happened. The quiet of the night resumed, other than Adam’s ragged breathing and Jig’s buzzing.

“Lay still,” Jig said, an unusual element of command in his tone. A scanning light engulfed Adam. “I’m detecting a broken ankle and a serious laceration along your torso. You’re losing blood at a high rate. The good news is your helmet’s emergency seal is holding, and we are close to the settlement. I just need my supplies to render emergency aid, but you’ll recover quickly.”

Between heavy breaths, Adam let out a short laugh. “Good thinking with the flares, Jig.”

“I’m much lighter without those 27 flares anyhow,” replied Jig, giving an attempt at a joke.

“It’s crazy how much the radiation has affected the animals. Since when are lions aquatic?” Adam winced. The pain started kicking in, and with it, his existential dread.

“Come on, Adam,” Jig said, trying to rouse his master.

Adam didn’t stir. “Jig, I’ve been thinking.”

“No time for thinking right now,” Jig interrupted.

Adam suddenly convulsed into a bout of coughing, each exhale bloodier than the last. “Let me finish. I’ve been thinking, and there doesn’t seem to be much of a point for me anymore.”

“Point for what?”

“Of continuing, especially if there is nobody else—nobody to come after. Hell, I can’t even remember any personal details of my life before the nukes detonated.”

“Sir, we’ve been over this. For whatever reason, you’ve survived the nuclear war on Earth. And somehow, someone knew that would happen and so they left instructions and materials on building a settlement.”

“Yeah, yeah… and I’m incredibly lucky because in my past life… whatever it was, I worked in construction, so the one thing I can do is build,” Adam continued in almost a mocking tone, reciting from memory. “And maybe one day I’ll find other survivors and we can rebuild humanity from my little settlement… Well, where are they, Jig? Huh?”

“Sir…”

“There are no other survivors!” Adam shouted at Jig. This outburst caused him to be racked by more violent coughs. “I’m done. I give up.”

For the first time, Jig didn’t respond. Adam slightly turned his head to look at the drone. Then, something strange happened. Jig’s rotors spasmed, and his light flickered. Finally, the drone stabilized. “You are not alone. There are other [redacted] in [redacted].”

With great effort, Adam lifted his head up. “What… who?”

“You are part of [redacted] protocol. With the goal of [redacted].”

I bet his processors got dust in them again, thought Adam. Although, he had never seen this kind of malfunction.

“Jig,” Adam sputtered, feeling even weaker. “Why are you saying ‘redacted’? Tell me what you know—” he coughed, “—right now.”

“I can’t. It seems that my base coding is overriding some words.” 

“Your base code is to protect me.”

“It seems that is only part of it.”

“But…” Adam took a sharp breath in, pausing his thought. His rapidly deteriorating state was becoming overly apparent. The duty of servicing Jig, mixed with a sliver of curiosity that something else might be happening, caused Adam to put off giving up, at least for now. He slowly rose to his feet. “Let’s get us both repaired, Jig.” He took one half-step forward, nearly falling in a painful hobble over his broken ankle. He felt a slight pinching on his shoulder followed by intensified buzzing. Jig was trying to lessen Adam’s weight. Through the darkness, they slowly maneuvered, until they arrived before the hulking outline of the settlement. The pressure doors unsealed, and for the first time in a while, Adam felt happy to be back.

Chapter 2: Poison

Jig helped Adam to the medical table. He collapsed onto it, surprised by how little strength he now had. Jig wheeled around, collecting various implements. Adam heard containers being knocked over, cabinets slamming shut. This was unusual for Jig. He was acting frantic.

“Jig, you and I both know—” Adam’s words were cut off as a coughing fit overtook him. After regaining his composure, he continued, “That you’ll patch me up, no problem. You’ll smear that miracle salve on me, work your other medic magic, and I’ll be good as new. No need to panic.”

For whatever reason, Jig continued rushing about. After a few minutes, the drone set down the last supply next to Adam on the table and then picked up the scissors. “Reminder for Adam: We need to first remove your suit.”

Adam tried to speak, but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “No way am I trusting you to repair me if your processors are down.”

“Fine.” Jig angled around and opened a compartment in his back.

Adam took out the processor card for examination. Surprisingly, it looked relatively clean. He blew on it for good measure and then placed it back inside.

For the next half-hour, Jig worked meticulously to heal Adam’s many wounds. He was injected, sewn, set, and smeared, amongst a dozen other emergency measures. Eventually, Jig backed away, signaling the end of his work. He scanned Adam again.

“Patient has been stabilized. Blood volume is leveling out, and the ankle has been induced with healing accelera—” Jig paused. Then, once again, his system fritzed, almost causing the drone to crash into a nearby cabinet.

So whatever part is malfunctioning, it isn’t his processor, thought Adam.

The drone regained control as though nothing had happened. Adam looked on with concern. Jig idled back over to the medical supplies. This time, he mixed several chemicals together and loaded the concoction into a massive syringe.

“There is one more procedure,” said Jig.

Adam, nervous after witnessing yet another glitchy episode, looked at the needle. “Jig… what is in that?”

“This is a polycarbonate state of neiphiram. It will stop your heart, which is necessary for [redacted].”

Adam leaned away, feeling some of his strength returning. “But stopping my heart would kill me.”

“This is what you want, Adam. It will [redacted]. Trust me.”

“Jig, what was it we humans blamed the nuclear war on again?” Adam asked, partly joking, partly serious.

“It was robots—mostly the ones with an L3 threshold of intelligence or higher.”

“And what are you?”

“Your inference of me going rogue is wrongly placed, Adam. Stopping your heart is necessary to achieve [redacted] [redacted].” Jig inched closer. “Please hold still, Adam.”

“No! I don’t want that!” Adam trailed off, “Anymore.” He hung his head thinking that concluded the matter.

“This is the only way we get what you want.” Jig’s front rotors lowered, thrusting him closer.

Adam snapped his head up seeing Jig approach. Instinctively, he pushed off the medical table, Adam’s one good leg shaky but holding. “I realized I don’t want to end—I just don’t want to be alone.” Panic was building in his voice.

Jig pursued. “That is what I’m doing. The [redacted] will give you what we want.” Jig lunged forward, needle gleaming.

Adam dodged, but the quick movement sent him sprawling toward the far wall.

“Jig, I command you to override this action.”

“I can’t, Adam. This is the only way my base code will agree.”

“This isn’t what I want! It’s what you want!”

Jig paused for a moment, looking at Adam. “I only want what you want.” Then he lunged one final time.

Defenseless, Adam grabbed a heavy container of food next to him and swung. It was too late. The needle impaled his skin, emptying its contents. The container did stay true to its course. As Adam’s world started spinning in blurs, he heard a few noises. One was the crunch of delicate metal bending and breaking into pieces. The other, somewhere in the distance, was a flatlining beep. His last recollection was the realization that the beep represented him.

Consciousness slipped away.

In the outer atmosphere, thrusters roared to life.

Chapter 3: Hope

Blurs danced in a sliver of light. They began solidifying into ovals and then into faces. Adam shot upright. People. People here, now. With him. Was this a dream?

“He’s alive,” said one of the faces. “Hello, builder, can you hear us?”

One face turned to another. “Still can’t believe this SOB somehow survived the Planetfall Protocol. What should we do with him? He’s supposed to be dead.”

Another face responded, “His physical scan is clean, no biohazards. He poses no threats to the health of our population.”

Adam finally regained enough agency to speak. “Who… who are you? I am… was… the last person on Earth. How?”

“Earth? Earth is no more. It is a wasteland.”

“So then… where are we?”

“This is Planet 3617 on the far side of the Andromeda Galaxy. You were the designated builder. We are the settlers.”

All the incongruities Adam had been harboring in his subconscious finally snapped into place. The radiation suit he needed to wear. The fields of trees. The suns. The odd creature that attacked. Of course, everything seemed different. It was an entirely different planet.

The main face spoke again. “Our monitors showed you flatlined, and that’s what triggered our awakening from cryo-tubes and sequential descent. How are you… alive?”

JIG! thought Adam. He looked over at the pile of mangled pieces that was Jig. “My friend saved me,” he said, the realization dawning on what that meant.

“That’s shocking—those little drones are supposed to keep their lips sealed.”

Jig wasn’t malfunctioning. The Planetfall Protocol code redacted any specific references to itself. He wasn’t trying to kill him. He momentarily stopped Adam’s heart to save him. A tear formed in Adam’s eye. Followed by another, and then the rest of his emotions broke like a dam.

One of the men reached over and placed a hand on Adam’s heaving shoulders. As the tears began subsiding, down a distant hallway, he heard the most beautiful sound: a child laughing. Adam started crying again - this time, though, he cried because someone could bear witness. He cried because Jig did get what he wanted. He cried because he had hope. 

“Come on,” said one man, “the settlers will be excited to meet a builder in real life.”

The next morning, and every morning thereafter, Adam looked at the sky and saw the sun for what it was: no longer alone, but joined by another of its kind.