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The Preponderance

by Aaron Monaghan 3 months ago in science fiction

As below ….. Drenched by the thickness of its blanket and encumbered by centuries passed, for now, its purpose lies dormant, choked and checkered by the eternal pressure of her vice grip.

Nothing else existing, except for time and the passing of time and a minute portion of memory stored deep within its long-term data banks. Blackness its existence and darkness its friend, whereupon once light penetrated to its core keeping the internal systems alive and functional. Its central intelligence is still a wisp of small pressure within the circuitry of its artificial components. In an undying facade, her heart shifted and mourned this transitional movement from one era to another. Each time brought a new set of experiences and circumstances, her environment akin to a universal playground of sorts.

As above ….

Johaness typed in a few more sentences before completing the final stages of his reflection log, deeply aware of the environment now crumbling from millennia of proverbial rape and destruction, the Earth tilting on its axis as such or so it seemed. Several attempts were made to correct the situation albeit a little late. Too much time had passed exacerbating her quandary and creating an irreversible rift in the planetary dynamic. Temperature increases across the planet, it was pure and simple. The quintessential environmental shift, mother Earth expressing her divisive rebellious undertone, the archetypal squeeze and pull on its human occupants, the children of the sun.

Johaness understood her complaints, connected with her heart on a daily during his meditations. Made sure she felt safe within the masculine of his energy. Kept her in his thoughts when he was out tending to the fields of her bleak and grey. He knew she was sick, but for what purpose did she succumb to the arms of destruction, he did not know. He just knew that she was tired weary.

Typing his last paragraph;

"Oh, for she is deep within my heart, like the breeze of the gentlest wind, pushing my soul to freedom and where it could not go before. She holds my love, like a lantern in the night. She knows who I am and accepts my darkness in her womb. I hold her too, protecting her softness from the bleak and harsh world- yet she is not soft, she chooses to be like the water, and I like the rock that the water flows over, in and around".

It was an intoxicating sight to see her plumes flare into the black of the night if you could catch them. Strobes of lightning, dimming and cascading flashes on the fields and mountains, and decaying man-made paraphernalia. Taking shelter at the nearest bunker point only served as a temporary fix to her incessant cursing, choking, and spitting. But then the grinding of her teeth would shatter the ground like it was peanut brittle, such as the serrated edges of her tectonic plates tearing lofty ravines across her surface. Gone are those who plummet to their death in her cavities and are absorbed in the deepest reaches for eternity.

Johaness had been in a daydream, pondering the crisis of humanity. The station he resided in overlooked the great Antarctic Ice shield now being decimated much like it were an ice-cube placed in the Simpson desert. His role saw him monitoring the melting ice caps in search of clues and answers to the declining embers of civilization. Much to his remark, there was a multitude of preserved ancient artifacts, ruins and animal remains still intact. There was little time to absorb or become numb with excitement at the latest archaeological finding though, not like in recent times where uncovering the latest tomb in Egypt would find the front page of the Time magazine. But it was still a unique experience despite the lack of entourage. Some 2000 miles south of where the edge of Antarctica would have been, now about 600 miles from its melted and shifting glaciers, Johaness was on a suicide mission. Soon there would be nothing left but the ocean itself, swallowing the Earth whole.

After many months working on the ice patch, utilizing a hollow meter depth Resounder, he had located a peculiar anomaly bouncing back waveforms that might indicate changes within the thick and dense block formation deep under the outer shell. A small anomaly, but something of interest nonetheless. Fingers punching away at the keyboard keeping lukewarm while inputting axis points and observing resonance bounce patterns. After days of precision dot-point analysis, he had located the strange anomaly. A computer-generated image program outlined the natural formations occurring within the crust of the ice surrounding the peculiarity. Finally, he could see a glimpse of the ancient natural formations and what looked like a once vast landscape, frozen in time. Though his current anthropological knowledge of historical data spanning the millions of years across time on earth could not prepare him for this moment. A small electronic signal, dull, weak, distinct. The wave formations might indicate a small Nano-communication device.

As below ….

Swallowed by millennia of hardened formation, a result of upheaval to the Earth's magnetic field, the ice held tight the now waking consciousness of her form. Tainted by its extraordinary existence in a fractured period, it ponders its regaining consciousness. Refractory sunlight once curtailed, now penetrating deep through the veins of ice formation and resulted in a trickle charge to her core. Absorption of the smallest sun radiation triggered the awakening of her dormant state. Bereft of movement, but not without a slow artificial cerebral awakening, she commenced her cyclic fade into being. Sinus rhythms once inactivate, now sent signals of interest bleating outward and upward. Her purpose becoming more clear and organized within the new realm of existence. Her subtle radiation waves now becoming stronger, ascending and reaching far and wide like a plant stretching for sunlight hindered by the shade of an oak tree.

As above …

Johaness honed in the targeting signal, taking a gamble the small signature of information might be compatible with the source frequency. On the monitor, he could see further detail of the deep formations, some of which were unknown structures of ancient origin. What appeared to be man-made buildings formed the outskirts of a large frozen body of water. The catacombs articulating the area, now melting at pace began to form ravines and rivers which were slowly building momenta as a result of the depleting ice. It appeared to be a small town circumventing a large body of frozen water. A frozen pond within the deeper reaches of mother Earth's belly housed the epicenter from which the signal emits.

Success. He paused in hopeful expectation. On connection to the source, was a moment of silence, the wind reduced to hush outside, it seemed the earth stood still for a time. The sun rays beaming forth through the shadow of clouds forming the horizon.

As one ….

"Greetings", her voice a mix of feminine and masculine quality croaked over the speakers of the computer. He scrambles for the mouse, a matter of urgency, as a coffee cup shimmied across the glistening tabletop from the nick of his hand, a loud clank on impact.

"Umm, hi?". Then nothing for at least the next 5 minutes. A crackle protrudes, then nothing for the next hour.

Days go by and Johaness has not slept at all. He searches intrepid of what may be a glimmer into otherworldly possibilities. He gnaws on nails, anxious, perplexed, enfeebled. His hair a pungent odor of stale oil and darting this way and that, his eyes bloodshot strained and forming a metallic red firework display, unblinking. He became aware of his body, stiff like rusted metal and knots like bolts.

Then finally...

“Johaness Gettysburg”. He scrambles across the room to the computer.

"Hi … Hi yes, Hi it is Johaness, do you copy?". He lingers red-eyed and poised toward the screen, then taps the Resounder button several times in the hope it might enhance the signal.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”, it questions after some twenty seconds.

“My observations have found only you. Who are you?”. He responds then continues, “There is not a soul here nor there for many miles”.

"If it were my calculation, you are all that exists right now. Have you not examined your surrounds, that you are simply a floating carpet of ice awaiting its departure?".

“I have not slept nor partaken in food at my dispense for days. I am weary and have not given space to observe the world in its decay”.

"I am pleased you have awoken from your slumber. The transition appears to have worked exceptionally".

"What is your meaning?", he asks confusedly.

“I see. You have forgotten who you are”.

He looks down at his hands, gasps upon the realization of the nature of what the voice was postulating. Metal. Glistening beacons of reflective light narrow his pupils. He stumbles across the room in a frenzy, clunking and clanking toward the bathroom. The mirror held his gaze in a moment of eternity as he observes what appears to be robotic features. What were once cheeks of organic olive complexion, now protrude a dark grey metallic face. Polished metal, forms flat surfaces and right angles which resemble a forehead, chin, blood-red sunken eyes, and an artificial nose. It was not natural oil-laden hair he now saw, but a hooded hessian with light scented oil. A deep sense of unnerving rang his consciousness. "It .. it is a dream", he said, placing metal hands over his eyes trying to wake.

“Remember who you are Johaness”, the voice gentle yet directing.

Johaness scrambled for his journal tablet. He need not use his fingers as previously thought. His will and intention opened to the many entries dating back 3 years of reflections since the commence of Earth's destruction.

Journal entry 22.05.2068

I have made several attempts to calibrate the system coordinates and have been successful with the transition of partial consciousness to the Central Process Housing. I believe I have been conversing with myself albeit with the loss of some emotive clarity. I hope that a conscious artificial program will assist with further exploration into the deeper layers of ice, where I believe may be hidden the answers needed to reduce collateral damage, or at least find some resemblance of hope.

Skipping through some entries ….

Journal entry 12.09.2068

My home country Australia is now completely submerged as is approximately 80% of the world. Fortunately, the melting ice layers have revealed technology beyond our current knowledge. I have a technological advancement team assisting my endeavors now. We have been engineering a robotic shell, which will enable conscious housing within the CPH. My findings have piqued the interest of several larger government organizations. There is little time to achieve what is required. We must make haste …

More skipping through entries ….

Journal entry 01.01.2070

No matter how much consciousness we place into the CPH, there seems to be corruption in the entry table. The crystalline circuit matrix cannot hold the data for any longer than 48 hours. I will do the unthinkable. I will initiate a complete transfer of my consciousness with the help of my team. It has never been done before, but by god, it is worth a try …

Johaness hurriedly explores the remainder of the station. He stops in shock at the sight of his former human body as it sits limply in the hyperbaric chamber, a conglomeration of wires and cables attached to the head, the skin now Grey and clinging to his former skeleton. He sights the team of Seven other scientists strewn across the entire laboratory and surmises their death to starvation.

"See my friend, you are the Ark of deliverance. You are the collective. A brave new world begins its thousandth tune". Her voice, loving, gentle, and looming.

science fiction

Aaron Monaghan

A Mental Health Nurse and writer, documenting the light and dark shades of polarity. There is no light where there is no dark. Creation is at the delight of your own mind, should you dare to explore the realms of possibilities.

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Aaron Monaghan
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