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Brian and Eve

Brian awoke from the drug-induced sleep with needles in his arms and colored patches on his scalp. The machines all around had kept death at bay, but now his head spun wildly and he merely wanted to rest. He passed a hand before his eyes, unable to shake a strange feeling.

All around the tiny room lights glowed mildly, adding to his queasy sensation. A quiet voice came from nowhere, spoke gentle words that were meant to soothe.

He stood, like stone, and listened. Tears flowed down his cheeks. Without compassion, the room told him he was an outcast, that he'd been chosen for a peculiar mission.

Look away from the orbs, it said, you know what the light is. Rather, look at the dark spaces, there lays your safety.

So the man in the spaceship, one million light years from all, looked upon a machine that was ten million years old. He thought to himself: I may be the last man alive.

Sitting alone on a silvery couch, her skin tingling from the touch a hundreds plastic feeders, Eve woke up from her sleep and looked around the little room. Tiny purple lights lined the edge of the box. Tiny purple lights drew pictures in her eyes. She stood and brushed away all the wires that held her. She wavered and wondered that she could still felt her heart.

And the computer spoke, saying, I have made you in my image, you are what I wish I had been. I have kept you from harm for ten million years.

Silent, Eve listened to the litany. She saw billions looking at her, billions who were no more and she shed a tear. She shed a hundred tears for the people--gone--whom she would never see again.

And the darkness all around held her quietly against fear, and she felt a presence there; she felt someone there.
Brian was standing at the bed's edge. He looked past the opening door, into a room of purple lights, and at the body of his wife.

"Eve!" he said rushing.

"Brian!" she screamed, reaching.

And their embrace was without fear nor play. The couple formed a family once more.

© 1995 Christopher Mahan