THE SHORES

It first started with the stranding. Waves of dolphins and whales and jellyfishes crashing along the coastlines. Activists crying in despair. Families panicking. The media coverage capturing every single detail, every eye from every fish looking at you, helplessly opening and closing their mouths as their gills finally stood still.

Then came the smell. The rotting smell of animal corpses, the reeking brown and red tides filling the air. For the very first time im human history, we flew the shores to live as far away from water as possible. Cities became empty. Trading Los Angeles for Fresno, Montreal for Stoneham. Small cities becoming titans, offering a temporary shelter from the reeking stench.

Then the birds started coughing. Have you ever heard a bird cough? The memory of that encounter makes you smile. Sounds like someone screaming through an old gramophone. But then you remember your dog coughing. You stop smiling. Progressively, every living being started coughing. And then they stopped.

People started to disappear. Then you would find them in a burnt house, hugging, but no longer screaming, having triggered their death instead of waiting for it. Some too sick to tell you they were leaving for somewhere better. Old people became an endangered species. Then parents became extinct. Then children and babies. If you were lucky, you would survive long enough to see your loved ones die in front of you. Soon, nothing lived but trees. And flowers.

You have no explanation as to why you survived. Maybe you were built differently. Maybe you were just really lucky.

It has been quite a few years now. You are old. Your hairs are gray or white, you can’t seem to decide. On your road to nowhere, you saw everything. Crumbling cities. Collapsing bridges. Magnificent forests standing there in silence. A few times, you saw someone else. Eleven times, to be precise. Nine women, two men. One time, you saw a bird. Another time, a deer. Miracles. But nothing else. You chuckle. The real apocalypse is nothing like what they showed in movies. People are not hostile, they are simply indifferent.

You always wanted to find a treasure. A real one. Like the pirates used to hide.

You smile. You stop talking to that metal can. You stand up and stretch every single muscle in your body. Your back cracks as you let out a sigh of relief.

You often talk to objects, to try not to become crazy. Humans do need that social connection, but you are always surprised to realise that it does not need to come from another human.

You grab your metal detector, you pack up your things and take the car. A great car, to be honest. You would not be able to say what the model is, but it looks slick. Today, you want to go to the library and read.

Quite a few years ago, you went back to the shore. You currently live in a coastal village, in Maine. You no longer smell the stench of the sea. You probably stink. You smell yourself, your clothes. You cannot tell, like you cannot tell what your house smells like.

Life is great, really. You have nothing to worry about. Of course, sometimes you feel lonely. Then you watch a movie. Or you drink. Or you drive on that road next to the sea. Then you keep going. Nothing is moving around you. Everything feels like it is sitting in a museum, waiting for the Earth to slowly assimilate everything left.

You remember yourself to be anxious as a young adult. Constantly comparing yourself. Trying to make yourself small in groups. Avoiding crowds. So, and you have to admit, this is a dream scenario for anyone like you. And then, like every time you have this reflexion, you feel guilty as you remember at what cost this utopia came upon you.

In the beginning, you of course thought of suicide. The overwhelming dread. The loneliness. The pressure, the feeling of being part of the chosen ones, the only ones left alive. After a few years, it passed. You got over it. To be honest, you no longer remember the face of any of your loved ones. And so you are no longer sad.

And now, you’re trying to enjoy what is left of life. It would be stupid to waste this opportunity. One day, with you, or with someone else, the human race will cease to exist.

On this shop by the sea, you found this metal detector. At first, you laughed. Then you remembered your childhood dream. To find a treasure. And that thought gave you a purpose.

The day is already over. You read a lot today - about two hundred pages, you would say. You will come back next week. You say goodbye to the library, and no one answers back. You get in your car.

You stop next to a beach. Then you grab your metal detector - you call him Bill. Hi, Bill.

You switch him on. He starts talking with his regular beeping. You always love that moment of the day. Nothing else to do but to listen to this metronomic melody. You start walking. You look at the water. The slow movement of the waves never fails to relax you. You have never swum in the ocean in your whole life. You probably never will.

Bill awakes you from your daydreams. He gets excited. Easy, Bill, you say.

You stop and get on your knees. You let out a sigh of effort. You start digging in the sand. After a few minutes, you find a pair of glasses. They look neat, but you’re looking for a treasure. Gold and diamonds. So you place it in your bag and you keep going.

Over there, an old cabin by the sea. The shattered roof gave up, and the wooden door is rotting. Perfect, you think for yourself. And then it starts to rain. You absolutely love it. Just the right amount. You smile as you enter the cabin.

There is a kitchen in ruins. A few rooms. You find a watch, you do not take it. A hallway.

At the very end, a closed door. You open it. You find the room of a young girl. It is strangely intact, contrasting with the rest of the house. On a pink bed, a small plush elephant. Princess books. A few posters.

On a small work table, you find a safe box protected by a lock. You easily force it open. Inside, a diary next to a heart-shaped locket. Quirky but adorable, you think as you smile. You open the small book. Hi. Today I went with mom to buy new clothes. It was bo-ring. Hi. Today, I went to Mia’s house. Her mother made us pizza. You close the book. You are strangely moved. You keep it for a further read.

And then, your eyes land on a shelf. You see a huge book. You take it, unknowing of what you will find inside.

You open it. There is nothing but pictures. First, a baby. Then a woman holding it. She looks exhausted. Then a thin man with a shy smile. They all look directly into the camera. Then the baby has grown. She is a child with a princess robe. She smiles too. She has a single tooth. She blows candles on a cake. Happy third birthday, Camille, is written on the back of the picture. Then, an older picture. The man and the woman are kissing each other. They are in love.

You keep going through the book. You are mesmerised. The little girl goes to school. The little girl hugs a small elephant in a zoo. The little girl cries, her face filled with mud. In the background, the woman is laughing. In the next picture, the little girl, confused, is holding another small baby. This is the encyclopedia of someone's life.

Eventually, the pictures end, and the pages become nothing but empty plastic ready to receive a new memory.

You sit there, agape.

And you close your eyes.

You think. You think about what you missed, and what you will not miss. About the sun warming your face, about that girl that once was your friend, about that man that was your teacher. You realise that you do not know how old you are. You remember your first kiss, how sloppy and full of desire it was, you remember the time you moved with your family and you needed to say goodbye to your friends for the very last time, you remember when you held in your arms your little sister after she fell from her bike. It strikes you. You have never felt more alone in your entire life. You cannot breathe. You think about all those you once loved, and you swear that for a moment you can see their faces. You realise that the only memories you cherish you have are the ones you created with others.

And for a brief moment, you feel at peace.

You are ready to go.

Then you open your eyes. You are still there, sitting on the pink bed.

You absently back to your home. That night, you do not eat. You are not hungry.

You are deeply shaken.

A few hours later, you go back to the beach. Until dawn, you sit there on the sand, thinking and thinking, soothed by the sound of the waves. Then, you stand up.

You get completely undressed. Naked, you stand there, water up to your wrinkled ankles. You make a step forward. Then another one. Like a man stepping on the moon. The sea touches your knees.

You stand there, shivering, smiling. For a reason you do not understand, your eyes are filled with tears.

The water is murky and muddy. Probably as toxic as it was years ago. But you no longer can smell its smell.

You take a deep breath, and you finally dive in.

And you never come back.