Futurism logo

Down to Earth

"Better late than never, right?"

By Corrie AlexanderPublished 3 years ago 9 min read
17

Tonight, Max and I are going on a date.

My stomach does somersaults as I pull on a simple white dress. I haven't worn such a feminine garment in ages and dressing up after so long suddenly makes the impending evening feel very real.

Although he's never expressed an interest in me before, I am not really surprised that he proposed dinner earlier today. After all, there’s good news to celebrate and plans to discuss.

At least, I’m sure that’s his perspective. I’m a little less optimistic. Nevertheless, I leave my quarters and make my way down the dimly lit corridors to meet him.

Max, ever the punctual man, is waiting for me outside the mess hall as I approach.

“Jane. You look nice,” he says simply.

He might mean it, but it's hard to tell. Call me a narcissist, but with my lithe frame and wavy chestnut hair, I believe myself to be fairly attractive. I certainly received my share of looks from men, back in the days when I cared about things like that. Yet, I've never received such a gaze from Max in the eight years we’ve known each other.

“Thanks, so do you,” I reply, with equally questionable sincerity.

Max is not unattractive, but he isn’t my type. He’s a large, muscular man with a hard edge to his features that makes me think he must have endured a great deal of misfortune, even long before his days aboard the Ayre. He's also at least 20 years older than I am if the white peppering throughout his hair and beard is any indication.

Plus, he always appears a bit angry to me. Even now, he looks more like he wants to throw down than go on a date.

With our somewhat forced pleasantries out of the way, Max taps the button next to the entry.

“After you,” he says, gesturing to the doors as they slide open.

It's dark inside the mess hall except for a soft light emanating from a circle of candles near the center of the room. In the middle of the candles is a table for two, complete with a tablecloth and place settings.

I can feel Max studying my face as I try not to look surprised. The old boy has put some effort into this. My stomach flips again. The gesture is sweet, but it isn’t helping my anxiety.

“Have a seat,” Max says. “Dinner’s ready, I just have to bring it out from the galley.”

I do as I’m told while Max disappears into the shadows to get our food. I’m not particularly excited about dinner. There’s nothing but rice and preserved protein replacement in the ship’s emergency food stores, and we’ve been eating that crap every day for eight years. Putting it on a fancy plate isn't going to make it taste any better.

But when he returns with the cart that carries our meal, I nearly fall off my chair.

“Oh my god, is that wine?” I squeak as he picks up a bottle from the cart.

It could be a trick of the candlelight, but I swear he’s smirking.

“It's a vintage merlot from 2069 California,” he confirms, tipping the bottle to fill our empty glasses.

“H-How?”

“I finally got the food replicator working this morning and this wine was in the database. I also got it to make-”

“Spaghetti and meatballs?” I interject, and my unease is temporarily eclipsed by excitement.

He rests the plates of pasta down on the table before taking a seat across from me.

“Yep, no more rice from here on out. Better late than never, right?”

“Absolutely,” I agree. I breathe in the wine and am briefly whisked away to a previous life when wine wasn’t a luxury, but a daily indulgence I'd taken for granted. I take a reverent sip and it tastes like cherries and warmth.

“I fixed the windows too,” Max says, sounding pleased with himself. “Watch this.”

He produces a small console from his pocket and taps the screen a few times. Suddenly, the whole room begins to hum as the shades slide up the panoramic windows and the mess hall is flooded with blue light.

When my eyes adjust, they are met by a stunning view of the Earth. It looks so much more spectacular here than it does from the tiny window in my quarters.

I look back to Max, stunned. For the first time, I see something other than desolation in the man’s face. Is it kindness? Empathy? Whatever it is, I feel myself softening towards him. I’ve never seen this side of him before; he’s usually so reserved.

Then again, so am I.

I'd say it's pretty understandable, given the severity of our mission's colossal failure and the ensuing predicament we found ourselves in.

When the Earth's atmosphere abruptly turned against humanity, it became a race against the clock to get as many people off the planet as possible. We only succeeded in launching one ship - the Ayre - with a paltry 20,000 people on board to avoid extinction. The plan was to stay in orbit for the next 500 years while we remained in cryostasis, with the hope that when we awoke, the Earth would have recovered enough to sustain life again.

But fate was not on our side. Max and I woke up ten years early due to our stasis pods malfunctioning. As it turns out, we were the lucky ones; the ship's logs revealed that all the other pods had crapped out more than 100 years ago, effectively turning our space ark into a massive floating tomb.

As if that weren't bad enough, there was a hull breach in the Ayre's laboratory that destroyed the 1 million vitrified embryos we'd brought with us. They had been Plan B for repopulating the Earth upon our return.

Despite being the last two humans alive, Max and I never really bonded with each other. We were loners to begin with, but the traumatic circumstances and crushing survivor's guilt made us even more reticent.

I once read that, in the wild, a jaguar and puma will peacefully share the same territory, but aren't inclined to collaborate beyond a mutual, unspoken agreement to give each other space. That was Max and I. The Ayre is a massive ship and for the most part, we've been content to go about our lives separately. We only convened when there was a matter to discuss regarding the ship or our survival.

Until today, that is.

Today, our latest scans of the planet's atmosphere came back clean, and the prospect of returning down to Earth mandates a change in the terms of our companionship.

“I never get tired of looking at it,” Max says, drawing me from my thoughts as we stare out at our former and future home. “What are you looking forward to the most when we get back to Earth?”

I think about his question for a moment, then reply, “Seeing the ocean.”

Max nods. “Me too. The beach should be the first place we go.”

A silence falls between us as the assumption of our being together on Earth hangs in the air. It seems the conversation that neither of us wants to have can be postponed no longer.

“Max… ” I start, but the words get caught in my throat.

Max takes the lead. “Okay, listen. If next month’s scans are as clear as they were today, then it’s only a matter of weeks before we can return to Earth. Then the future of humanity is literally up to us and I think it's time we talk about that. I know it's not what either of us wants, but we don’t have to pretend it’s something it isn’t. We just need to… We need to... ”

“Reproduce,” I finish for him.

"Right." Max's composure begins to slip as he grapples with the awkwardness of the topic. “What I’m trying to say is, we can go about this however makes you the most comfortable.”

His concern for my feelings on the matter is both unexpected and touching.

And it's better than I deserve.

I can still choose to withhold the truth, but he’s been nothing but honest and fair since we found ourselves in this ordeal together. It only seems right that I return the favor, even if I did wait eight years to tell him.

Better late than never, right?

“Max, I can’t,” I whisper.

He shakes his head and I can almost hear the gears turning in his brain as he prepares for what he thinks is a negotiation. “Jane, if we don’t then-”

“I know that. But I can’t, because I’m not actually Jane Deere. I mean, I am Jane Deere. But I’m not the right Jane Deere.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the government mixed up my file with the woman who was supposed to take my pod on the Ayre. I was supposed to stay behind. I knew they made a mistake but the opportunity was there and I wanted to live. So, I took her place.” My voice is steady but a traitorous tear rolls down my cheek.

Max is perplexed as he tries to grasp the meaning of my words. “Listen, what’s done is done. None of that matters now.”

“You don't understand. I was supposed to stay behind because I can’t have children."

Max's eyes are fixed on mine as the words sink in. The men and women aboard the Ayre had been Plan A for repopulating the Earth. As such, each passenger had to pass a fertility test in order to be granted refuge on the ship - a test which I had failed with flying colors.

I want to look away but I can’t. I see the exact moment he realizes that my selfishness doomed not only the other Jane, but the entire human race.

My heart pounds as we sit there staring at each other. Will he scream? Cry? Throw me out the airlock? I am prepared for anything but this silence, which seems to stretch on forever.

“Please say something,” I whisper, unable to withstand the suspense any longer.

He finally breaks eye contact with me and stares down at his merlot. After a moment, he picks up the glass and holds it out towards me.

“To our return to Earth,” he says, and while his smile is sorrowful, his eyes are shining with relief.

With a trembling hand, I lift my glass and clink it to his.

If you enjoyed this story, please click the heart and consider leaving a small tip! You can also check out my other short stories below.

science fiction
17

About the Creator

Corrie Alexander

Corrie is an ISSA-certified PT, fitness blogger, fiction-lover, and cat-mom from Ontario, Canada. Visit her website, thefitcareerist.com

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.