The Keepers

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But if you scream on Earth and there's no one around to hear it, what's the difference? Tomorrow is October 31st, 2051. Halloween. I've been searching around a large and foreign home, hoping to find some leftover stash of decorations. Those who left, couldn't take much with them so a lot of houses remained eerily full of the previous owner’s non-essentials. I remember a time when a town like this would be infested by jack-o-lanterns, styrofoam graves and rubber zombie arms. I can almost smell varying degrees of rotting pumpkin mixed with dead leaves which used to dominate on a street like this, this time of year. There haven't been pumpkins for at least a decade now. They'll try to grow them, up there. Or at least that's what I've heard. But I've accepted the fact that they are one of many things I will never see again.

About three years ago, I moved into this town and into a stranger's house. There was already a couple living in a house down the block from the one I'd chosen. Probably somewhere in their seventies. John and Wendy. When the rescue shuttle lotteries first began there were health screenings to determine if a person was healthy enough to survive the journey off planet. Our government assured us they were working on ways to mitigate the harsh effects of space travel on the body but in the meantime, if you didn't pass, you were not entered into the lottery. Apparently Wendy had a heart condition which disqualified her. John stayed for her. I had no excuse except my own fear.

I was thirty eight when the first announcements were made of the plan to evacuate our dying planet. We'd gotten by for a while, coming up with ways to counter the effects of climate change and the devastating natural disasters which had accompanied it. But in the late 2030s, terraforming on Mars had progressed enough that the atmosphere was deemed livable and our government was one of many which began incentivizing private companies to start building vessels capable of transporting large amounts of people.

At first, many were understandably hesitant. Growing pains, accidents and malfunctions caused countless deaths during the initial pilgrimage flights. I had already had a healthy fear of flying, heights or any situation where I had to entrust my safety to a moving vehicle. I didn't even like riding in cars and avoided them whenever possible. So the horrifying footage and reports of these tragedies only pushed me over the edge. The thought of ever getting in one of those death traps filled me with an absurd level of dread and even as the trips got safer and more people began to warm to the idea, that fear never changed in me. I couldn't explain or understand it completely myself but something deep at the core of me just would not let me consider going.

I had no close family or significant other to try and coax me into changing my mind. I'd relocated a few years prior for a job and had lost touch with my old friends. My dwindling coworkers made feeble attempts at convincing me, most likely just so they could say they tried. When a distant Aunt called to tell me she had decided to go and inquired about my plans, she did not argue with me when I told her I was staying. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame these people, any of them. They hardly knew me and I made sure of that. Sometimes I wonder about how things might have turned out differently. If I'd had someone to care about or someone who cared about me.

They called those who stayed behind 'Remainders'. They were mostly people like Wendy, who stayed because of a medical condition. They were the ones who'd refused the longevity pills and nano-bot injections for religious reasons. The ones who believed they should get old and die. I couldn't relate to this. But my desire to survive was equally as strong as my desire to stay on this planet.

The government never came through on their promise to find a way for those with health conditions to safely make the trip but to their credit they did put forth a lot of effort to help those staying live as comfortably as possible. They offered free survival training classes, helped people relocate to towns which were in milder climate areas and had been upgraded to be more self-sufficient and safe. Most utilities had already been self maintained for years but they also installed features to help assist us to live in relative comfort. Tall fences topped with barbed wire surrounded chosen neighborhoods which usually spanned at least a few blocks. Robot maintained gardens did their best with the poor soil and air quality and produced enough scraggly roots and greens to keep us going. Some sort of low maintenance livestock(in our case chickens), water collectors and condensers and 3d printers which could generate edible protein. They even provided Lab space and supplies to maintain our health if we chose to. When I first relocated I was given a walkthrough on how it all worked, shown how to troubleshoot a few foreseeable issues and given a bunch of manuals. I guess this was their way to make themselves feel less guilty for leaving people behind. Meanwhile, here I was feeling guilty because I technically could have gone if I'd wanted to.

John and Wendy mostly kept to themselves. The first few years we tried to get together and do dinners once in a while. I didn't want to tell them I'd chosen to stay so I avoided the topic and they were too polite to pry. So our conversations stayed shallow and awkward. Sometimes they'd sit on their front porch together and I'd wave from a distance. But they have been doing this less and less often recently.

I'd never been one to care much about decorations. But this year something changed. I had an unexpected compulsion to be festive, as if somehow some fake cobwebs and whirling fabric ghosts would invoke the long gone spirits of the people who were no longer around. But all I found in the attic was a Christmas tree with a broken stand and a fake light up pumpkin. The pumpkin still worked so I stuck it outside on the front porch. I walked out into the street to get a better view of my handiwork. The goofy grin beamed back at me from the steps but screamed of desperation. Like a court jester feebly trying to distract a mad king from his rampage. I shrugged and headed back up the steps, but before going in I took one more look across the street, half hoping somehow magically it would have transformed into the streets of my youth.

I jumped in shock when I saw the glowing figure. A smudge of green against the trellis of a neighboring house. At first I tried to logic that it was a reflection of my pumpkin but the weak light from its bulb barely made it to the end of my steps. With wide, cautious eyes, I was trying to make out what I was looking at when the shape moved suddenly, making me start again. Before I could talk myself out if it, I found myself venturing forward, down the steps and across the street toward it but as I approached, it darted around the side of the house and disappeared. I walked around a bit trying to see if I could catch sight of it but with the blanket of darkness back to it's normal state, I was starting to believe I'd imagined what I'd seen.

The next night I sat out on the porch, belligerently hoping for some phantom trick or treaters to come by, although I had nothing to give them. I hummed a few bars of some old tune which I thought was from some horror movie and my eyes wandered every now and then to the house where I'd seen the glowing green figure the night before. My mind tried to sort out what I had actually seen. Had the thing looked more like an animal or maybe a small child? The glowing creature didn't return that night and I decided to chalk it up to a hallucination brought on by nostalgia.

A week later, after I'd thrown the pumpkin back up in the attic, the weather was nice and I decided to sit outside with a cup of tea and take in the night air. At around 8 o'clock, the solar street lights began to flicker and after a few minutes, they went out entirely. I sighed and sent a text to John.

Going to go check on the electrical panels. Let you know if I need help.

We hadn't had many big issues come up since I started living here. Somehow I'd worked myself into a sort of janitorial/caretaker position in our tiny community of three. I guess I figured John had his hands full taking care of Wendy, and I had nothing better to do. I would harvest and deliver them food from our lab and garden every week, change lightbulbs, fix leaks, or whatever other little tasks they might have a hard time with. Back in the day, I never did things like this. Never volunteered or stuck my neck out for anyone. I was too afraid of everything. Afraid of failing, being embarrassed, hurting someone with my ineptitude.

Okay thanks.

He replied.

The only time I'd had to access the utility maintenance shed was to adjust the street light timers manually when they failed to switch on their own. I hoped this would be just as easy a fix, or at least something the manual covered. The first thing I noticed was the door had been busted open. I stared for a moment at a smear on the side of the door, of what looked like the stuff that oozed out of a glow stick if you cracked the plastic tube. My heart rate increased and I clenched my jaw trying to steady my nerves. The sense of strangeness was palpable. I stood to the side of the frame and pushed the door open. I gasped.

Blocking my view of the electrical panel was a huddled figure, about 3 feet tall.

The creature whirled around upon hearing me approach and let out an unearthly squeal. The sound was confounding to my ears, like air echoing around inside of a tube. If I didn't believe my eyes before, this sound lent the figure another dimension and completed my understanding. It was alive and real, whether or not I could determine what it was. Maybe some animal which had evolved. On the wall behind it, cast in the dim glow coming off it’s skin, I could see the various circuits and switches were partially dismantled and busted. In one of it’s hands it grasped some broken bits of wire.

The creature shrieked again and made what I think was supposed to be a threatening gesture. I did not budge and perhaps it sensed I wasn't intimidated, because it began to shrink back against the wall, dropping the wires. It's glow began to dim slightly, but I could still see it well enough to study it's features. Two close-set, beady eyes at the center of what was likely a head, two bumps on either side (ears? noses?) and a slit of a mouth set into vibrant chartreuse. Despite it's small stature, the mere alienness of the beings appearance should have given me some pause to approach it. For all I knew, that unearthly glow might be something toxic. But what if it did irreparable damage to the panel? What if it gets past me and somehow gets to John and Wendy? I may not be much but I'm able-bodied and relatively healthy. It was the least I could do to try and stop this creature from doing whatever it was trying to do.

I was debating possible ways to lure the creature away from the panel when it attempted to dart out past me. It was fast but not fast enough. Without thinking I lunged, tackling it to the ground and pinning it under my knee. Thankfully I felt no sting or shock on contact. The creatures body language spoke of immense terror as the creature tried to twist and wrench itself out from under me. It emitted a pitiable whine and it's glow pulsed rapidly like a siren. I felt an odd mixture of triumph and disgust at myself for causing this thing, whatever it was, distress. I stared into what I thought were eyes and tried to project some kind of message with my own. A message which I hoped said

I don't want to hurt you. Calm down.

I sensed the tension in the creature's body had begun to ease and I gradually began lifting my knees while still holding it firmly in my hands.

I have the power here. If I caught you this easily once, I can do it again.

I gave the creature one more pointed look before slowly letting go and backing away. It's pulsing glow which had dimmed, stilled and became level. It was impossible to say for sure but I think it looked relieved. And before I could decide what to do next, it bolted past me out the door. By the time I turned to follow it, the creature had vanished into the night air. I exhaled and realized the tension I'd been holding until that moment.

I looked back to the dead panel and decided repairing it would have to wait. I was no longer afraid of the creature but what if it was just a baby and was going to send it's parents after us for revenge? I looked over to Wendy & Johns place, the windows dark. Maybe they'd gone to bed early. If a baby could bust through the door to the maintenance shed, there'd be no stopping a larger one from getting to us if it wanted to.

You awake? I texted John. No answer.

I took a photo of the electric panel and grabbed the manual. Then I went back to my place, grabbed my taser from it's hiding place and headed over to Wendy and Johns. I would keep watch tonight while looking up how to fix the panel.

It was harder than I thought to split my attention. I didn't want to get so wrapped up in my research that I could be caught off guard. By around 2 am, I'd felt I'd read and watched enough videos to have an idea of where to start my repair mission when I returned to the maintenance shed. I had not browsed the internet in quite some time. In all the old movies and TV shows depicting apocalyptic situations I'd seen growing up, there was always no power, no TV, no internet, no way for people to keep in touch with each other from long distances. We still had all of those things but in a post studio production world, there wasn't much new UGC being produced. And in the early post-exodus days, a lot of what was being posted was pretty bleak and scary. In the microcosm of civilization which had been left behind, the same sorts of behaviors which had existed with the full earth population were still present. Conspiracy theories, anger and fear ran rampant and unregulated. Viruses, hacking and disturbing videos were hard to avoid. Instead of making me feel more connected to the dwindling humanity around me, I found seeing these things only deepened my feelings of loneliness. Before the exodus, I had been mostly alone and hadn't been a huge social media person. By not going online, I was able to convince myself more easily that things were somewhat normal. But now that a few years had passed, I'd found a very different atmosphere had emerged.

Perhaps finally realizing how little there was to gain, the intensity of the posts I saw had greatly subsided. The majority of posts being hopeful and positive or instructional. A lot of the helpful videos I'd found regarding the repair of the electrical panel came from a forum called The Meek which appeared to be a congregate for all things ‘remainder’ related. There was a whole section devoted to repair and maintenance issues, a section where people showed off their gadgets and inventions, a section for people looking for aid or assistance from people nearby. I couldn't however find any headlines mentioning little glowing creatures and how to deal with them.

I must have fallen asleep at some point during the night and woke to the sound of the screen door whining open behind me.

"Hey there neighbor..." John said from behind me, confusion clear in his voice, "everything alright?"

I had a short lived moment of shock before my brain put the pieces together. You're outside on your neighbor's porch. You fucked up but it's okay because everyone is still alive. Oh yea, you should probably explain what's going on.

I saw John's eyes trail down to the taser in my lap.

"Yea..." I said, "I need to talk to you guys about something."

John invited me in and I explained my experience from the previous night and why I was standing guard on the porch. They didn't seem terribly alarmed and part of me wondered if they thought I was going crazy. Either way, they agreed to keep an eye out and not go out at night alone until we figured out a solution.

I went back to my dwelling and while trying to decide if I should figure out some kind of traps or other form of security to ward off the creatures or set to repairing the electricity panel, I heard the sudden whirring indication of the power returning. I went around checking screens and flipping switches to be sure. How could this be? Was this some fluke or was the damage not as bad as I'd remembered? I returned to the maintenance shed, fully expecting to find something sparking or a fire caused by some wires trying to do something they were no longer capable of doing. But instead, I found something inexplicable. On a first glance, the panel looked as though it had been splashed by some kind of black-light neon goo and I thought maybe it had been some residue left by the creature. But looking closer, I saw the original circuitry had seemingly been spliced with some kind of bio-luminescent vines. They were pulsing and bridging the gap between the busted wires and conduits. I shook my head in disbelief and walked out of the shed. But before walking back down the road towards my place I caught sight of something else that made me pause.

Unlike the New England of my childhood, the grass these days was sparse, scraggly and yellowed at best or had been replaced by parched earth. The area outside of the shed had looked mostly this way since I'd moved here. But now tufts of healthy green grass and weeds dotted the earth in a path leading away from the shed. It was a pattern that mimicked footsteps. Over the next few days I began finding more and more of these types of instances of formerly dehydrated and dead areas being infused with new life. As if some Miracle-Gro fairy had decided to sprinkle their magic dust around while we slept. I had no more encounters or sightings of the glowing creature and I began to believe they did not pose a threat. In fact I was almost positive they were responsible for this sudden resurgence of viable plant life. I wondered if maybe the creature was trying to say thank you for letting it go.

This inexplicable trend continued for months until, at least within the confines of our little town, the natural environment had begun to look almost like it had decades ago. John, Wendy and I continued to marvel at it, everyday noticing something new. And with this infusion of life, I felt my soul becoming charged with some newfound excitement, which I don't think I'd ever remembered feeling in my life.

I decided to search again online for anyone who may have had a similar experience out there and this time I found something surprising. Sprinkled within the unrelated posts, every so often there would be someone who would mention something that sounded similar. There was one in the pest control section, asking if anyone had figured out a decent trap for what he referred to as the blue goblin and a woman in the gardening section wondering if anyone had figured out a way to lure the yellow fairies to specific areas. So maybe they weren't always green?

The man asking about the trap worried me. While I still didn't think these creatures posed much of a threat, I realized that my encounter could have easily gone another way and maybe we would not have had such a positive experience. If I had accidentally killed or injured it, they may have seen this as a warning to stay away. I imagined other communities like ours perhaps being left in the dark and potentially starving or freezing. I decided to make a new section devoted to discussing these 'fairies'. I thought, if I can begin the conversation in a positive light, maybe I can encourage people to treat them the way I had and accomplish the same thing. I took photos of our town, showing the lush plant life and full garden and of our strange hybrid electric panel. Told the story of my encounter. Before I knew it the board was booming with people asking questions, recounting their own experiences.

By the following year, many photos were being posted of towns looking similar to ours. Some had managed to get photos of the creatures and discussions emerged about what they were and where they'd come from. Within the forums I'd found a small group of others who had stayed but not for health reasons. Some had been scared like me, others nihilistic and angry at humanity but not enough to be violent against themselves or anyone else. All of us shared a similar sentiment of finding a newfound strength and desire to be a part of society in the years which have passed since the exodus. We decided to form a coalition and start to figure out a way that we could extend our assistance beyond our little controlled environments. We pooled our knowledge and resources and started to look into ways we could safely travel to other communities and help people who needed it.

If you had shown me a vision of the person I've now become, before all of this began or even back when things were relatively normal, I would not believe what I was seeing. When I looked back at the mindset I'd had in the past, I couldn't imagine feeling the way I had and I was angry at myself. I felt a deep sense of regret when I thought about the relationships I'd let slip away and the opportunities I'd missed because of my fear. And yet I couldn't imagine it unfolding any differently if I'd had the opportunity to redo it all.

I'd always heard stories of people whose lives changed after a traumatic experience. How'd they'd found a new lease on life and had turned their lives around. I had had experiences like this before the exodus. I had almost died in an apartment fire, been in a nearly fatal car crash as a teen which very likely accounted for my fear of being in vehicles, and although I was shaken up, I'd largely gone back to my life as usual. After the exodus I had stuck to my habits for some time. Kept up my walls of protection and the distance between me and those around me.

It struck me that perhaps the catalyst for change was space. With my refusal to venture into outer space, I'd been given the gift of space to figure out who I was, on my own terms, in my own time. Without the constant barrage of people asking how I was or telling me to change or how to fix my problems, I was able to catch my breath and come to my own conclusion. In the absence of other people to blame, I was able to see that the problem was not external but something I was doing to myself and only I was capable of fixing. In the space of loneliness I found the impetus to change. I was given the space to grow and regenerate like the resurging natural life around me and without realizing this, I had transformed. I never spent a lot of time thinking about how the creatures came to be or where they'd come from. I wondered if maybe they'd always been here but had been hiding and too afraid to emerge. Maybe the emptiness in the wake of humanity brought them out. And like new growth sprouting from the scorched earth they were finally flourishing. Filling the empty space.