Tuesday's Ten Minute Tale - the result!
May. 5th, 2009 11:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
martinlivingsOkay, here we go. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
angriest for "Titan", punktortoise for "naked singularity" and splanky for "cucumber sandwiches". It also took a little longer than ten minutes, please forgive me, I'm out of practise.
"The Ark"
(c) Martin Livings 5-5-2009
"Cucumber sandwich?"
"Please."
When Max and his small team of scientists launched their shuttle using a specially converted Titan rocket six subjective months earlier, on a one-way trip to observe the possible formation of a naked singularity, they had no idea they'd become the last human beings alive in the universe.
The team was created by Rupert, multi-billionaire and science freak, the man who'd put up the money for this utterly insane venture. To send people in a sub-relativistic speed rocket deep into the galactic core to observe something never before observed in nature was ludicrous. It cost more than the GDP of most countries to mount the mission.
And then there was the job of finding some suicidal scientists to join him. Which, ironically enough, was the easiest part of the whole thing. Susan and Peter were the first to sign on, a married couple, and both Nobel Prize nominated astrophysicists with the unquenchable desire to know everything and anything about the cosmos. Alistair and Roger were next, rocket and life support system scientists who were keen to pursue space exploration in an era where robots got to do all the fun stuff.
That left Max. Ship's medical officer and psychologist, the last to sign on. He'd only done so once he'd seen the crew list.
"How is it?"
"Not bad, considering it's been snap-frozen for three thousand years."
"Same as us."
The H1N1 influenza outbreak had seems relatively minor as their rocket had launched and they'd waved farewell to their home planet forever. Even if they survived the trip in cryostasis, and there was no proof that the system would successfully function for that length of time, the velocities they'd be travelling at would be impossible to overcome and reverse, even if they had any fuel remaining, which they wouldn't. Their mission was to slingshot around the singularity, formed when a fast-spinning trinary system close to the core of the Milky Way collapsed, and then...
Nothing.
They'd be heading deep into shallow space, pulled into the core by the tremendous tidal forces exerted by it. But it wasn't all bad. They'd die of old age before the ship was crushed.
They set their computers to receive broadcasts from Earth for as long as it could, so they'd know what had happened in their absence. They expected weeks, months of flicking through the data when they awakened centuries later.
It took less than an hour.
Within a year of departure, the human race had become extinct. The H1N1 virus had mutated time and time again, each iteration more deadly than the last. The last transmission from Earth had mentioned a town in Oregon, the last bastion of humanity. And then...
Nothing. The human race had less of a future than six scientists on a one-way trip to the centre of the galaxy in a tin can.
"These are the last cucumbers in existence, as far as we know."
"Nonsense. There's no real reason they wouldn't continue to grow back on Earth."
"Still, we should probably save them."
"I can clone some more easily enough, if you like?"
The first few weeks out of cryo were dark, depressing. But the naked singularity was ahead of them, less than a year away. The last remains of humanity gathered themselves together, gritted their teeth, and focussed on the job at hand.
Then Roger got sick. Despite Max's ministrations, he was dead in a week. It seemed the virus had travelled with them.
Rupert was next, drowning in his own mucus one night. Alastair locked himself in a air-tight blister on the side of the ship, supposedly a liferaft for emergencies. He said it was an emergency. He died as well.
It was just Max, Peter and Susan. Three human beings.
And then three became two.
"Is that possible?"
"It should be. I've never done it, mind you, but the science is relatively straightforward. I studied up on it before we left."
"Yes, I'm sure you did."
Nobody ever questioned Max about the equipment he brought. He was the doctor, trusted implicitly. After all, it was in his best interests to keep everyone healthy and happy. Nobody asked about the vials, assumed they were medicines. And most of them were.
But one wasn't. One was something else entirely.
Not if you were the last man in the universe, were the exact words that rang in Max's ears, ever since they'd met at college. Ever since Max had put his heart on his sleeve, and been slapped down for it. He'd never forgotten, never. And then there had been the call for volunteers, the list of applicants already accepted, the name that set his pulse racing.
And he'd known what he had to do.
Protecting himself and anyone else he'd wanted to had been easy. The antiviral was very specific, and very effective, colourless and tasteless, able to be slipped into drinks or food without much effort.
The virus itself was the same. The virus he'd released into the water supply in South America days before he'd boarded the ship. The virus he'd carefully brought with him. The virus he'd exposed the crew to, one by one, until only the two of them remained.
Now they were all that was left of humanity. Now he'd finally have what he'd always wanted.
"Cloning cucumbers for sandwiches. It's a start, Max. But a long way from what you'll need to do."
"Baby steps, my love. Cucumbers will suffice for the moment. The naked singularity is behind us now, and we're citizens of the Galactic Core. We have to keep the human race going."
"I hate you, Max."
"It doesn't matter anymore. We're all that's left."
"I don't care."
"That doesn't matter either."
"I hate you, Max!"
"I love you, Peter..."
angriest for "Titan", punktortoise for "naked singularity" and splanky for "cucumber sandwiches". It also took a little longer than ten minutes, please forgive me, I'm out of practise."The Ark"
(c) Martin Livings 5-5-2009
"Cucumber sandwich?"
"Please."
When Max and his small team of scientists launched their shuttle using a specially converted Titan rocket six subjective months earlier, on a one-way trip to observe the possible formation of a naked singularity, they had no idea they'd become the last human beings alive in the universe.
The team was created by Rupert, multi-billionaire and science freak, the man who'd put up the money for this utterly insane venture. To send people in a sub-relativistic speed rocket deep into the galactic core to observe something never before observed in nature was ludicrous. It cost more than the GDP of most countries to mount the mission.
And then there was the job of finding some suicidal scientists to join him. Which, ironically enough, was the easiest part of the whole thing. Susan and Peter were the first to sign on, a married couple, and both Nobel Prize nominated astrophysicists with the unquenchable desire to know everything and anything about the cosmos. Alistair and Roger were next, rocket and life support system scientists who were keen to pursue space exploration in an era where robots got to do all the fun stuff.
That left Max. Ship's medical officer and psychologist, the last to sign on. He'd only done so once he'd seen the crew list.
"How is it?"
"Not bad, considering it's been snap-frozen for three thousand years."
"Same as us."
The H1N1 influenza outbreak had seems relatively minor as their rocket had launched and they'd waved farewell to their home planet forever. Even if they survived the trip in cryostasis, and there was no proof that the system would successfully function for that length of time, the velocities they'd be travelling at would be impossible to overcome and reverse, even if they had any fuel remaining, which they wouldn't. Their mission was to slingshot around the singularity, formed when a fast-spinning trinary system close to the core of the Milky Way collapsed, and then...
Nothing.
They'd be heading deep into shallow space, pulled into the core by the tremendous tidal forces exerted by it. But it wasn't all bad. They'd die of old age before the ship was crushed.
They set their computers to receive broadcasts from Earth for as long as it could, so they'd know what had happened in their absence. They expected weeks, months of flicking through the data when they awakened centuries later.
It took less than an hour.
Within a year of departure, the human race had become extinct. The H1N1 virus had mutated time and time again, each iteration more deadly than the last. The last transmission from Earth had mentioned a town in Oregon, the last bastion of humanity. And then...
Nothing. The human race had less of a future than six scientists on a one-way trip to the centre of the galaxy in a tin can.
"These are the last cucumbers in existence, as far as we know."
"Nonsense. There's no real reason they wouldn't continue to grow back on Earth."
"Still, we should probably save them."
"I can clone some more easily enough, if you like?"
The first few weeks out of cryo were dark, depressing. But the naked singularity was ahead of them, less than a year away. The last remains of humanity gathered themselves together, gritted their teeth, and focussed on the job at hand.
Then Roger got sick. Despite Max's ministrations, he was dead in a week. It seemed the virus had travelled with them.
Rupert was next, drowning in his own mucus one night. Alastair locked himself in a air-tight blister on the side of the ship, supposedly a liferaft for emergencies. He said it was an emergency. He died as well.
It was just Max, Peter and Susan. Three human beings.
And then three became two.
"Is that possible?"
"It should be. I've never done it, mind you, but the science is relatively straightforward. I studied up on it before we left."
"Yes, I'm sure you did."
Nobody ever questioned Max about the equipment he brought. He was the doctor, trusted implicitly. After all, it was in his best interests to keep everyone healthy and happy. Nobody asked about the vials, assumed they were medicines. And most of them were.
But one wasn't. One was something else entirely.
Not if you were the last man in the universe, were the exact words that rang in Max's ears, ever since they'd met at college. Ever since Max had put his heart on his sleeve, and been slapped down for it. He'd never forgotten, never. And then there had been the call for volunteers, the list of applicants already accepted, the name that set his pulse racing.
And he'd known what he had to do.
Protecting himself and anyone else he'd wanted to had been easy. The antiviral was very specific, and very effective, colourless and tasteless, able to be slipped into drinks or food without much effort.
The virus itself was the same. The virus he'd released into the water supply in South America days before he'd boarded the ship. The virus he'd carefully brought with him. The virus he'd exposed the crew to, one by one, until only the two of them remained.
Now they were all that was left of humanity. Now he'd finally have what he'd always wanted.
"Cloning cucumbers for sandwiches. It's a start, Max. But a long way from what you'll need to do."
"Baby steps, my love. Cucumbers will suffice for the moment. The naked singularity is behind us now, and we're citizens of the Galactic Core. We have to keep the human race going."
"I hate you, Max."
"It doesn't matter anymore. We're all that's left."
"I don't care."
"That doesn't matter either."
"I hate you, Max!"
"I love you, Peter..."
