Ecstacy
Harris took a deep breath of chilled air and looked up into a rare clear midday sky. Thirteen thousand lights and forms of the blockading fleet, nobody was coming or going from this planet and all external network access had been cut off. It wasn’t so bad though, they still had everything they needed to get by.
He had always hated the suppressing presence of greater society – other people. He reached down and balled up a snowball, chucking it up into the sky, watching it arc and then splash down in the ocean. It’s things like that you couldn’t do in the city. Things like that which you couldn’t do around a lot of people. Out here though he could be an unrestrained individual, free to flourish as he saw fit, alone.
He was woken up that night by the klaxon. Rushing to his seat, he only saw the aftermath on the sensor array. The blockading force was retreating. All attempts at contact to the rest of the world went unanswered. Harris stared at the dead screen. Would they really have used a weapon like that on this world?
He had wanted to be alone, now he really was alone.
One week later, still no signs of life. He stared out into the sky. Trillions of human lives existed among those stars, none of them knew about this one soul off in a distant segment of space, forgotten and looking in.
The automated logistical and information networks on the planet would likely outlast him. He wouldn’t starve, go thirsty, or go bored, he would have access to anything he needed, but it was still becoming difficult to keep himself engaged. He used to be a hobbyist illustrator but somehow even that lost its flavor.
Harris looked down at his chest and saw a small lantern light glowing inside. In previous days this would have been a great shock but now, he had already had the sensation that he was going fuzzy at the edges, losing definition, like he was fading out. It was an unusual feeling and yet it felt very natural. Being forced inward made you aware of some very strange things.
He couldn’t help but see the flame dance and flicker, as if it were going out.
Harris slowly swept his sensors back and forth. He had wired into every sensor array on the planet, all searching for anything left in orbit. Aside from a few crushed hulks of former space stations and craft, there was a completely clear picture. Nobody was coming, Maybe whatever killed the inhabitants was still contaminating the mainland, or maybe nobody cared to visit a little dead star on the far edge of human civilization.
His thoughts idly drifted. He had a casual vision of someone he had once rejected the love of or something like that. Maybe it was a dream, maybe it was a ghost. The line between dream and reality had totally disappeared by this point, he had shocking visions by day, sometimes he’d close his eyes and open them finding himself somewhere different. He never felt any need to sleep, no matter how tired he always seemed to feel. His mind and body dragged dream or not.
He silently looked at the thing’s face, he felt the guilt but kept working. There was no use in trying to make up to people already cut off.
He raised the chat window he perpetually kept open. Defense network AI services were still up, and with some work he had gotten them to mimic some of the people he had known. Old social media posts, written documents, bare memory. With the great advancements in AI, it was totally impossible to tell the difference now between human speech and machine talk. Somehow, some people could still guess, likely because of clues outside the test, but all analysis could find no difference, no difference at all. Most people could never tell the difference either. Just like the real thing. Through speech synths, facial models, it was exactly like talking to a real person.
It kept his insanity at bay; it anchored him to reality. Nobody ever had a vision while talking to someone else, that came from isolation. The human mind loses itself in isolation, you define yourself against other wills. Something about mirror neurons probably, mother and child, who could really be sure? But this was…
Someone reached out behind him and put their arms around his shoulders. His tiny, fading ember flashed like someone had doused it with magnesium.
He fell backwards in his chair and struck the ground hard. He covered his face and wept bitterly, seeing the tiny light glowing faintly against his palms.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
He groped around himself and found a log for a wood stove which had caught alight. Was that from the flame?
He plunged the thick club over his screen. He crushed them all.
“No more, no more!” he cried, dispelling the last illusions.
Out in the snow, he looked into the night sky. Countless lights danced through the sky, darting back and forth above him. Coming together into great blinding infernos, casting glittering, multicolored lights onto the pale snow below.
He reached up his arms and screamed as loud as he could.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I was arrogant, I didn’t realize how much I needed you! Please, forgive me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He fell to his knees and clutched his chest, his muscles tensing, convulsing from the strain.
A great light, taking pity on him, came down from the sky. Seeing the brilliant light melting the snow, he stood and looked up, reaching out.
The candlelight inside grew into a roaring inferno as he rose to meet the light.