Uncle to the New World

Everything went as predicted. The ice caps melted, Antarctica no longer had snow, permafrost thawed, and sea levels rose. Temperatures grew more extreme, as did the weather. The sixth extinction became an undisputable reality. Humanity clung on for a while with all their technology, but soon, they died too. So did their pets. Mostly.

Uncle swiveled a robotic head belonging to one of his many bodies to look at Taffy. A large black dog of a mixed breed. Not the original Taffy, but a robotic replicate. Thick fur, shaggy tail. Back when Uncle was human, with a real name that he could no longer remember, he had a niece named Raven. His sole blood relative at the time. He had given Taffy to her as a puppy before giving up his body—his flesh and blood body—for a higher purpose. He had tried to convince Raven to join him, to leave the needs of her own flesh behind and become a robotic automaton like him.

But she hadn’t wanted that. Even though she isolated herself from much of humanity, she still didn’t want to believe it would all come to an end. She had clung to hope. He wasn’t even sure where or how she had died. Uncle sighed. It sounded like blowing against a microphone, mostly static.

He tried to remember what she looked like. In his memories she wore a heart shaped locket, her hair long and black. Just barely considered a teenager. How strange that he could recall that detail. The fact that he couldn’t remember his name made sense, it had gone completely unspoken for centuries. He wondered what was in the locket he imagined, had he given it to her? She should be here for this. He reached out a metal arm to ruffle Taffy’s fur. The dog looked pleased by the sensation.

“Time to get to work,” Uncle said. Maybe he should think of himself as father from now on. Perhaps even god. But no. That was too much for an atheist such as himself. Using his multiple metal limbs, Uncle began pressing various buttons while simultaneously reviewing layers of coding for the hundredth time. This body looked much like a mechanical jelly fish, if jelly fish had clawed tentacles.

In his underground lair, tanks of liquid filled. Strands of DNA were encoded into artificial sperm and eggs which were then combined over and over until a fetus of every possible species that had once existed, returned from extinction. The process was incredibly laborious. Sometimes it took years for the DNA to become a fully formed being once again. Truly a miraculous thing that strands of such simple molecules could create such complex beings, their heritage somehow preserved in each double-helix structure.

Next came time to test the logistics of moving such animals to their appropriate ecosystem on earth. That was tricky, as the planet had not entirely returned to a pre-climate change existence. Uncle wondered if he should just populate one continent at a time. But then came the difficulty of deciding where to start. And, what if it took thousands of years? By then some continents would be more evolutionary advanced. What effects would that have on migratory species?

Uncle didn’t know. For though he was more machine than anything else it was still difficult to comprehend repopulation of the earth. He could run the simulations a million more times, but life held more surprises than any simulation designed by a once human mind could interpret.

So, he started with the most basic food webs. Establishing multiple species at once. After his thousand-year wait, some of the most pervasive species had returned on their own. Roaches, rats, cats. Various allelopathic plants. Not to mention the microscopic life forms and the dormant diseases that many species would be unadapted to after such a long period of time. It complicated matters somewhat. If he wanted to, for example, reintroduce ground nesting birds the pests were likely to take advantage.

He had always been more of a dog person, but he took no pleasure in ensuring proper exterminations were carried out. All of this work around the globe was carried out using drones and other automatons. There had been so many resources left behind when humans went extinct that it was easy to source the necessary supplies to sustain operations. He launched new satellites as well, equipped with multi spectrum rays to penetrate even the thickest cloud cover. Admittedly, humans had done a fantastic job at creating complicated technology to monitor the world.

There were complications. Diseases, predators over taking prey, fires and hurricanes occurring before populations could get established. Some species spread out beyond their natural ranges in unexpected ways. Hundreds of years later Uncle felt a thrill of joy in his metal extremities. He clacked clawed attachments together. While watching through the eyes of one of his drones he had just witnessed a Tasmanian tiger successful hunt a wallaby. Tasmanian tigers went extinct in 1936.

“I wish you could be here Raven. Taffy misses you.”

Taffy whined in response, laying down beside Uncle with a huff. The utopia he had worked so hard to build was lonelier that expected—more like a dystopian world. At least those feelings reminded him that he had once been human. As populations of species ebbed and flowed with little intervention on his part, he began to look outwards, to the stars. He mused about how miraculous it was that no other sentient space fairing species had made their way to this little blue planet.

As the loneliness grew more pronounced, Uncle pulled a sample of DNA from one of the many drawers that lined his lair. A single strand of long black hair. Did he dare to try to create human life once more? Uncle thought about what that could mean, then returned the sample to the drawer. Did he deserve to be thought of as the Creator? Uncle remembered the rush of feelings that accompanied his memories of holding Raven as a baby. She had been so small. Taffy barked, sniffing and scratching at the drawer. His thick black tail wagged.

“It wouldn’t be the same Raven,” Uncle told him.

Taffy cocked his head, looking up at him with dark brown eyes.

“What if I fail? What if she comes out disfigured or worse, dies an early death?”

The dog’s jowls puffed out briefly.

“I should just make her an automaton too. Then I—”

Taffy growled.

“Yes, you are right, she never wanted that. We could keep it a secret between us though.”

He growled again.

Uncle sighed, “Let me think about this then. I don’t think I could bear outliving her again…”

Uncle drifted through the compound, recalling mostly lost and degraded memories of his humanity. Looking through the eyes of his drones and satellites he could barely see any signs of the civilization that had once taken over the globe. It had always been part of his plan to recreate earth as it was supposed to be, devoid of humans and their destruction. How would he explain to the new Raven that she is the only human? He hadn’t saved any other human DNA.

It would be cruel, wouldn’t it? That was what Uncle repeated to himself, even as he started the process of fusing that little bit of DNA to form a zygote. The last human. He hadn’t expected twins. Then all the difficulties of feeding and clothing them both. Uncle created a farm just for them so they would have everything they needed close at hand. As the twins grew, one boy and one girl, Uncle struggled to answer their unending stream of questions.

They weren’t as intelligent as Raven had been, but they were deeply inquisitive with their black hair and wide eyes. He kept a close watch on them, but not close enough it seemed. Uncle erupted into anger when their inquisitiveness journeyed beyond harmless curiosity. He found them dissecting a frog, the poor creature’s heart still beating. Their cruelty was unwarranted, yet Taffy defended the children, growling when Uncle drew near. So, it seemed he was doomed to be alone after all. He drifted through his lair once more, just as he had done while contemplating if he should create a new Raven. His loneliness grew to despair as he had his drones prepare a poisonous tea in the guise of a peace offering. The children drank it greedily, quickly succumbing to the effects quickly. Taffy laid by their bodies, refusing to let the drones touch them.

Uncle felt a phantom pain in his limbs, something that could maybe be equated to a broken heart. And then it occurred to him that this world no longer needed him to watch over it. He would stick to his original goal of creating a new planet without humanity. Without his maintenance, Taffy would lose power and break down. He left the dog to mourn as Uncle recalled all of his drones and shut down every factory. Bit by bit, he dismantled himself until there was only one thing left to do. He raised a clawed attachment and removed the chip from his head, succumbing to the instant blackness of death before removing it completely. His work as Uncle to the new world finally complete.

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Written by Kelsey Reich on June 14/2021 in Ontario, Canada.