Back to the Garden

The Earth Museum had been devoid of visitors for weeks before its overhead tubes crackled and illuminated the cavernous atrium beyond my enclosure. I heard the familiar grind and clank of the distant security door and peered through the reinforced glass to see our android curator enter with a scaly reptilian, lurching forward on its hind legs. The immediate greeting from my fellow inmates was the usual deafening, mealtime cacophony of howls, shrieks and yelps. The curator waited for the racket to diminish before starting the tour, introducing his exhibits one by one.

   “And here are two dalmations we rescued from the top of a tower block.”

   “What a curious collection,” hissed the reptilian, gazing up at the five levels of cages and pens. “It’s a miracle you captured so many different species,”

   We were a curious crew to be sure; reduced to survival instincts and fed on starvation rations. However, with no food on offer today, I’d have to put on a show. Maybe, if I got lucky, an amusing performance would warrant a treat.

   “Indeed, it was miracle,” said the android. “Every building in the capital was inundated with only the upper apartments and roof terraces escaping the deluge.”

   “But you’ve been selective about which species you gathered?”

   “The so-called humans have a story about an old man who rescued animals to maintain the gene pool.”

   “And collected pairs of beasts, I suppose?”

   “We’ve emulated his endeavours in order to restock the Earth when it recovers---”

   “You mean, if it recovers?”

   “Well, yes.” The curator’s visual sensors pulsated. “It’ll take an age.”

   “And in the meantime---”

   “We’ve commenced a breeding program for the smaller mammals…”

   There were hundreds of specimens in the enormous exhibition, creatures from every continent; all survivors of the great flood. However, my quiet cell mate and I were the only representatives of our species in the collection. We’d encountered other humans hiding out there in the ruins; hardy ones who were fierce and cunning. There were less fortunate ones too.  

   Before I was plucked naked from the stockades and imprisoned here, I’d encountered farms packed with wretched humans huddled together like battery chickens. The A.I. curators were merciless in their pursuit of balance and order after the ecosystem collapsed. Bone marrow fertiliser contains nutrients that are ideal for replenishing the soil. Our species were fit for purpose and they harvest us to provide that perfect ingredient.

   “As you can appreciate, our function here is to store genetic code.”

   “Will there be a time when that’ll be useful?”

   “Indeed.” The android paused nearby. “Here’s a good example of a two humans.”

   “I wondered when I’d meet one in the flesh---”

   “Don’t be fooled.” The curator stared in my direction. “They’re capable of intelligence and following commands, and possess impressive dexterity but they’ll make a bid for freedom given a chance.”

   When the tipping point arrived, the devastation happened quicker than predicted. The air temperature increased exponentially, melting both icecaps during the course of one summer. The sea levels rose faster than the worst predictions and whole populations stampeded in a panic to reach the high ground. It was a perfect storm. As a result, people either murdered each other in the mass exodus or drowned in lines of stationary vehicles in their attempt to escape. 

   “What went wrong for them do you suppose?”

   “They were always doomed.”

   “That’s not my understanding.”

   “Believe me,” said the android. “They were unfit for their habitat, which is why they evolved a unique capacity for tailoring it to their needs on a global scale—”

   “And destroyed the planet in the process?” 

   “Exactly,” said the curator, hovering outside my cage. “My generation of A.I. are better suited to survive the devastation, nurture the Earth and rebuild what they neglected and annihilated.”

   The damn android was right. We’d become a useless species. Our brains had atrophied due to a reliance on computers and we’d lost our strength through a dependence on them for all our basic physical requirements. Not many humans possessed common sense anymore, and with limited resources and no survival skills, we simply dwindled and evaporated like morning dew in the desert. As the land masses retreated from the encroaching oceans, other species became dominant in the battle for survival. The Earth’s oldest apex predators thrived once again because the rising waters provided a bountiful supply of carcasses to devour.  

   The reptile tracked my movements with unblinking eyes as I cavorted on my straw bedding and cuddled up to my female companion. She understood what was occurring through experience and played along with my courting ritual; sticking her nose in the air and playing hard to get. We both knew a good show was essential now, it would enhance our survival prospects and, well, one thing led to another. They used to call it ‘singing for one’s supper’ back in the day. We just prayed the new owner wouldn’t devour us after his purchase.

   The reptile’s sharp pink tongue flicked out past his thin lips and a curious half-smile appeared for a moment before he turned to the silent android curator. 

   “You get used to their erratic behaviour after a while.” 

   I shuffled forward with my right arm outstretched, staring at the creature, and tilted my head to one side.

   The curator scanned the reptile’s response. “They can’t be trusted you realise and they’ll manipulate you given an opportunity.”

   “I see,” hissed the reptile. “They’re charming but dangerous, then?”

   “Only on mass.” The android’s visual sensors blinked. “They can be brought to heal with strict discipline and punishment.”

   I approached the transparent divider screen and pressed my palm against its scratched surface. A pair of glinting yellow eyes stared back at me, then out of nowhere a set of five elongated claws appeared. I’d established contact across the void. I twitched in surprise as a slender, pointed tongue flicked out and vanished again. I couldn’t take my eyes of the curious reptile. Maybe it would make an offer for us? Could I imagine this reptile as my new master? 

Was this my way out of here? 

Or was I his next meal?

   “They’re cute in a primitive way…”

   “They’re deceptively intelligent.”

   “How much for the pair?”

   Yes! It was our lucky day. 

   “We can negotiate a decent rate as they’re past their prime.”

   “Would that include transportation costs and export duties?”

   “You’re driving me hard.”

   “What about their muzzles?”

   “No need.” The curator paused. “We’ve rendered them voiceless.”

   “How so?”

   “A simple glossectomy.”

   “Was that really necessary?”

   “Their incessant chatter was awful.” 

   “They possess linguistic abilities?”

   “You’ll thank us for our intervention.” The curator’s sensors glowed. “In fact, we should charge extra for the procedure as many don’t survive.”

   “What a regrettable waste of resources.”

   “Indeed.”

   They brutalised us for months in that battery farm. We were packed together like worms in a fishing-bait can, stumbling into each other and waiting, forever waiting for our A.I. stewards to remove us. No one ever returned to tell their story, but a certain death was preferable to that hellish existence, cowering in darkness.

   “As you’ll notice,” said the curator, “They’re not house trained and will multiply swiftly, colonising all available space.”

   “Well maybe…”

   “Can I suggest a smaller species than can be easily consumed at a later date?”

   “Are this pair edible?”

   “Not in their present state, however with care and nurturing, they’d make nutritious snacks and---” 

   “Aren’t there are laws against harvesting them on this planet?” 

   “We operate in an observational capacity and only release specimens with some assurance…”

   “A preservation order then?”

   “Certainly, yes.”

   “You have my word.”

   “We need further reassurance.”

   “Galactose credits?”

   “That’ll do nicely.”

   “Any nutritional advice?”

   “We feed them raw vegetation, however a word of caution…” The curator paused to face me. “Don’t give them apples.”

   “But surely fruit is good for---”

   “Don’t let them loose in an orchard, got that?”

   “So, no fruit, then.”

   “You’ll end up with untold problems if they find an apple tree.”

   “What names do they respond to?”

   “The male responds to Adam.”

   “And the female?”

   “Whatever…” The curator observed me as I snarled at him and approached the clear screen. “They’re feral beasts for the most part.”

   My breath condensed on the cold glass and I scrawled my loved ones name in the condensation… 

   ‘Eve’

   “She’s Eve?”

   “Take no notice.” The curator turned away. “They’re crafty but uneducated.”

   “They appear harmless to me.” 

   “Don’t believe it.”

THE END