The Extinction Trials(36)

“Did you see any ships?” Alister asked.

“No. Or any lights on the horizon. No buoys. No lighthouses. And we received no transmissions.”

“So,” Alister said. “Crazy night.”

“Action-packed,” Owen replied.

“If the next six days are like that,” Alister said, “it’s going to get boring.”

“After that station, I’m okay with boring for a while,” Cara said.

Owen held up the journal Maya had found. “Actually, I think we may find what comes next quite interesting. This journal contains the account of another Extinction Trials participant. I’m assuming it’s one—or both—of the people we found on the ship. It may hold clues about what we’re going to find out there, which might save our lives.”

Owen handed the small book to Maya. “As I’m not the greatest reader-out-louder, I’ve asked Maya to read it to us.”

Maya laughed. “Is everyone ready for the designated reader-out-louder to begin?”

With the sun burning bright ahead and a cool breeze blowing through the main deck, Maya sat on the couch under the shade of the solar roof and began to read.





Day 1





I don’t know who will read this. I hope it’s a historian, studying a time when our world was at its lowest point, a crossroads where we turned back from the brink of oblivion and survived.

At the moment, our odds don’t look great from where I sit. As I write this, I feel like I’m perched on the precipice. All I see is the looming darkness below. But I choose to believe there is a light down there somewhere. Because that’s always been my philosophy. Believing there is a better future always helps you—no matter what awaits. With that said, I am preparing for the worst. For doom—for trouble—because they say trouble is what’s waiting for us outside this station.

Let me back up.

This morning, I awoke in a glass tube in Station Thirteen. That’s what they call this bunker. Because, of course, “station” is what a group of scientists would call a place like this. Bunker is what I call it. The bunker (or station) is small, with a single corridor, rooms on each side, and two androids running the place. Waking up here is a shock, to say the least.

They asked us to keep a journal of what happens to us, and to write it out. What a strange thing. Who writes anymore? Bodycams and biosensors would be more accurate and less burdensome. Apparently, there have been some issues with digital storage. They can build underground bunkers with robots running them, but they can’t protect their data. Add that to the list of mysteries.

When they thawed us out, they gave us warm clothes and herded us into an observation room where they held a briefing. They called it orientation, but let’s face it: orientation is for summer camp, briefings are given to people going into harm’s way—which is the case with The Extinction Trials. It certainly isn’t summer camp.

The long and short is that our world is gone. Over. Ruined. In the toilet bowl.

Around the room, the reactions were as different as the people. Some crumbled. Others were so shocked they could hardly move. A few had these expressions of, I told you so! I knew we were blowing it!

I told you so is only advantageous if you live to revel in your superiority. Most of the human race didn’t. That was the first gut punch. And they kept coming.

The question we all asked is the one that the proctors didn’t have a good answer for: how did the world end?

They’re vague on that point, but the bottom line is that a group of innovators and scientists had a vision for our world, and our species that just didn’t sit well with the powers that be—specifically, the governments around the world. This new reality—The Change, they call it—would have upended everything. Changed everything, if you will.

The Change—why would they even name it that? I mean, if you’re a brilliant scientist, can’t you come up with a better name? How can scientists be so good at inventing things and so bad at assigning a sensible title that is user-friendly and indicative of what it is? Or maybe I’m just too dense to understand the genius of the name ‘The Change.’ Or maybe it’s ambiguous for a reason—to keep simpletons like me from knowing what’s going on. If that’s the case, it’s working.

Change. If there’s one thing I know about it, it’s that people in power don’t like change. I’m not a brilliant scientist. I’m one of the little people who do the work the big brains think up, but I know that the people at the top of the food pyramid don’t like any changes to the way that pyramid works. Changes are dangerous for them. Changes have the potential to move them from the top to the bottom, and in a hurry. Apparently, this was that kind of change.

So that’s how the world ended: in a disagreement about the future. One group had their vision. The other group had a different vision. The group trying to change things, well, as mentioned, they weren’t a political party. Or volunteers collecting signatures door-to-door. They were scientists. And inventors. Whatever they invented, it had the power to change everything—without permission of the powers that be or the consent of the little people.

These scientists changed the world. Someone didn’t like it. They fought back. In that war, the collateral damage was our world. That’s how the world ended, with two groups fighting over the future.