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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Human Interaction
The last man on Earth slowly moved his mouse across the screen, the monitor glowing dully in the darkness as he read off the numbers.
“Radiation level is still low. Good.”
“That is the fifth time you checked the ventilation system today.”
“I know.”
“Repetitive behavior is a sign of stress, or a response to the onset of psychosis.”
The last man chuckled at the disembodied voice. “That’s what I made you for, isn’t it? Stave off the inevitable approach of insanity?”
“I am no substitute for human interaction. You need a hug.”
“You know, that would be much more comforting if you didn’t sound like GLADOS talking into an autotune.”
“I could attempt to simulate your voice.”
“No thanks. It is bad enough that I talk to myself; if I start talking back, I’ll know I’m crazy.” The man pushed himself away from the console and rose, flicking on the lights. “It’s a good thing the generators are holding up.”
“You checked those four times as well.”
“Well, can you blame me? I’m not going to be alone much longer.” The man pulled open the door, flicking off the lightswitch behind him before tugging it shut behind him.
“Why do you not keep the doors open? There is no one else here.”
“There is no one else anywhere,” the man said as he walked down the hallway, sliding his hand along the drab concrete wall. “I should trim my nails.”
“I have never understood how humans evolved to grow such long fingernails.”
“Eh, they wear down if you work a lot with your hands. I don’t pull weeds or chop down trees or whatever.”
“Only because if you leave this facility, you would die of cancer within five years.”
“I know, right? And just think, in five years, it will be dying of cancer in ten years! I’m sure the kids will love it.”
“Are you going to check on their progress again?”
“Hey, you said I needed to get some human interaction.”
“They are not yet grown enough to engage in verbal conversation. According to your projections, based on their genetic structure, they won’t acquire speech until—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The man stopped before another set of doors, glancing left and right before reaching down and twisting the handle. “Hey, kids, how you doing?”
The sound of computer fans and the quiet click of automated feeding tubes greeted him.
“Heh, don’t all say hello at once,” he said as he strolled into the room and sat down in the frayed computer chair in front of an aging LCD monitor. He idly tapped one corner of the screen. “Another dead pixel. Shoot.”
“There are presently sixteen reserve monitors in the storage closet.”
“Half of those don’t work anymore,” he said as he lifted his hand to chew at his knuckles. “Looks stable in here.”
“It always is. I keep a close eye on them.”
“I know.” The man rose and walked over to the nearer of the two tubes, putting his hand on the glass and peering inside. “Hi. I’m your dad.”
“I am unsure if they can hear you.”
The man smirked. “I’ve heard you singing them lullabies.”
“You programmed me to.”
“Liar.” He chuckled. “What gives, anyway? You never sing me lullabies.”
“You never ask.”
He slowly traced his finger over the outline of the baby slowly growing in the center of the tube, watching the hair slowly ripple in the motions of the liquid inside. “I thought you said they couldn’t talk.”
“Why did you decide to make them?”
“Changing the subject when I call you out on lying? And you say I don’t get enough human interaction.” He grinned as he stepped away from the tube and moved over towards the other. “Hello,” he said softly as he leaned down to look at his daughter’s face.
“You didn’t answer the question. You could have made humans using the genetic libraries in the storage facility. Why did you make something different?”
“Well, I figured I’d put my PhD to good use.” He put his palm flat against the glass, feeling the warmth flow into his hand. “Besides, you’ve watched Star Trek with me. It’s like Kirk says, everyone’s human. Some of us just have pointy ears.”
“Not a God complex?”
“All humans have those.” He stared in rapt fascination as the floating child stretched all six of her limbs in her sleep. “I wonder if they will as well.”
“Radiation level is still low. Good.”
“That is the fifth time you checked the ventilation system today.”
“I know.”
“Repetitive behavior is a sign of stress, or a response to the onset of psychosis.”
The last man chuckled at the disembodied voice. “That’s what I made you for, isn’t it? Stave off the inevitable approach of insanity?”
“I am no substitute for human interaction. You need a hug.”
“You know, that would be much more comforting if you didn’t sound like GLADOS talking into an autotune.”
“I could attempt to simulate your voice.”
“No thanks. It is bad enough that I talk to myself; if I start talking back, I’ll know I’m crazy.” The man pushed himself away from the console and rose, flicking on the lights. “It’s a good thing the generators are holding up.”
“You checked those four times as well.”
“Well, can you blame me? I’m not going to be alone much longer.” The man pulled open the door, flicking off the lightswitch behind him before tugging it shut behind him.
“Why do you not keep the doors open? There is no one else here.”
“There is no one else anywhere,” the man said as he walked down the hallway, sliding his hand along the drab concrete wall. “I should trim my nails.”
“I have never understood how humans evolved to grow such long fingernails.”
“Eh, they wear down if you work a lot with your hands. I don’t pull weeds or chop down trees or whatever.”
“Only because if you leave this facility, you would die of cancer within five years.”
“I know, right? And just think, in five years, it will be dying of cancer in ten years! I’m sure the kids will love it.”
“Are you going to check on their progress again?”
“Hey, you said I needed to get some human interaction.”
“They are not yet grown enough to engage in verbal conversation. According to your projections, based on their genetic structure, they won’t acquire speech until—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The man stopped before another set of doors, glancing left and right before reaching down and twisting the handle. “Hey, kids, how you doing?”
The sound of computer fans and the quiet click of automated feeding tubes greeted him.
“Heh, don’t all say hello at once,” he said as he strolled into the room and sat down in the frayed computer chair in front of an aging LCD monitor. He idly tapped one corner of the screen. “Another dead pixel. Shoot.”
“There are presently sixteen reserve monitors in the storage closet.”
“Half of those don’t work anymore,” he said as he lifted his hand to chew at his knuckles. “Looks stable in here.”
“It always is. I keep a close eye on them.”
“I know.” The man rose and walked over to the nearer of the two tubes, putting his hand on the glass and peering inside. “Hi. I’m your dad.”
“I am unsure if they can hear you.”
The man smirked. “I’ve heard you singing them lullabies.”
“You programmed me to.”
“Liar.” He chuckled. “What gives, anyway? You never sing me lullabies.”
“You never ask.”
He slowly traced his finger over the outline of the baby slowly growing in the center of the tube, watching the hair slowly ripple in the motions of the liquid inside. “I thought you said they couldn’t talk.”
“Why did you decide to make them?”
“Changing the subject when I call you out on lying? And you say I don’t get enough human interaction.” He grinned as he stepped away from the tube and moved over towards the other. “Hello,” he said softly as he leaned down to look at his daughter’s face.
“You didn’t answer the question. You could have made humans using the genetic libraries in the storage facility. Why did you make something different?”
“Well, I figured I’d put my PhD to good use.” He put his palm flat against the glass, feeling the warmth flow into his hand. “Besides, you’ve watched Star Trek with me. It’s like Kirk says, everyone’s human. Some of us just have pointy ears.”
“Not a God complex?”
“All humans have those.” He stared in rapt fascination as the floating child stretched all six of her limbs in her sleep. “I wonder if they will as well.”