Natural Disaster

ROUND I

Marcus Junius Brutus vs. Servius Selpivius Galba🗡

Statue of Pompey vs. Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus 🗡

Quintus Ligarius vs. Lucius Tullius Cimber 🗡

Gaius Julius Caesar 🗡 vs. Lucius Minucius Basilus

Calpurnia vs. Gaius Cassius Parmensis 🗡

Gaius Caissius Longinus 🗡vs. Gaius Trebonius

Pacuvius Labeo 🗡vs. Marcus Tullius Cicero

I save the file for today's report on my memory implant and shift my focus back to the monitor in front of me. A familiar black screen with a familiar white outline of the world map. One small red dot keeps blinking on it, in the middle of a region described as "European Union." If you were to zoom in, you would see that it is located in the middle of a town called Berlin, marked as the capital of a state called Germany. Not that those things still mean anything anymore. Zooming out again and seeing the empty map, it seems strange they ever did. At the beginning back in 2069, there used to be 8.9 Billion red dots. One for every beating heart, monitored from above by space-link satellites. Now only mine remains.

I had singed up to monitor them quite early after the omega variant broke. After wasting years of my life on a in face of the apocalypse utterly worthless degree and an even more worthless PhD thesis, it felt like doing something real, and the task was simple. Monitor the development, stay in touch with the other stations all around the world and file a report for each shift.

At first, there were many of us, all in some way believing that we would help safe humanity by observing trends and giving out warnings. Instead, we just became the chroniclers of it's decay.

Many didn't even fully witness the first month. The virus was cruel, but at least it took you fast.

You could leave your house feeling great in the morning, only to collapse coughing on the sidewalk before even arriving at your bus stop. Or you could get up to make tea in the isolation of your own home, all doors closed and windows shut, and grasp for air on the kitchen floor minutes later. There was no cure, no vaccine, no distancing measure that helped. The virus cut through us like a scythe through a field of weeds, and it soon was more than clear that no amount monitoring would change that. Some volunteers quit. More died. But through a weird twist of fate, I stayed alive.

And I kept going to work, day after day after day, even after the government that had hired me stopped existing, the subway train I used to take became a fighting ground for rats and my shadow was the only left to walk beside me in the once busy city streets.

And so did the others, who, when I called in "here Belrin, please respond" answered me with "here Warsaw" "here Seoul" "here Mexico-City" "here Tel Aviv". And the less we were, the more we talked. About our lives before. About the people we had loved and lost, about the places we had called home and the dreams we had dreamt, about our favourite books and movies and dishes, about god and fate and about which birds who saw outside their window.

Mostly, I think, it wasn't about what was spoken. It was about hearing another human voice, and the reassurance that you weren't alone that came with it.

And so, we were there to witness as one by one, more of the blinking red dots disappeared. Just like one by one, someone else among us started to cough. It was an unwritten, unspoken and yet unbreakable rule that none of the rest commented when it happened. Some decided to ignore it until their last moments. Most said goodbye. One of us, Alexey, fircely insisted the air in his office was simply to dry when he got the cough. Of course, we all wanted to believe that it was. But only minutes later, the transmission from his channel ended, and one of the at this point 5 remaining red dots in Kyiv vanished.

Like all of theirs did, eventually.

And yet.

"Here Berlin, please respond", I whisper. For the protocol. For false, poisonous hope that there has been some kind of bug in the system someone might still answer. Of course, no one does. And even though I expected it, the following silence crushes me once again.

A lonely tear rolls down my cheek as I rip the headphones off. Just like the voices in them used to be the undeniable proof that I wasn't alone, the static in the channel now is the undeniable proof that I am.

To distract myself, I get up and open the window. It would be easy to jump onto the empty street form here and make a final exit like that. All things considered, it's a miracle I am still sane enough to not consider this opinion. Even though… probably at this point death would be the sane choice. But something in me still wants to keep going, wants to hold out for as long as I can. It might be irrational, but I feel like this is what I am owe them. All 8.9 Billion.

Unaffected by my dark thoughts and humanities decay, a small sparrow lands on the window stil. It must have flown over from the tree across the street, where a family of them has build their nest. I that Diah would have love to hear that their little ones are now learning to fly. Diah. She was last one to leave, and the pain of loosing her still feels like a fresh cut wound. It has only been us for quite some time, and we had stopped logging out or even taking off our headphones, and even, of course disguised as jokes, started planning how we could meet. We could find a still functional high-speed train and somehow make it work. We could both steal cars. We would both just start walking towards each other and meet in the middle between New Delhi and Berlin.

But of course, we wouldn't. And when her time came, the virus didn't even give a warning. One moment, I was listening to her beautiful voice. The next, there was silence. And only one blinking dot left on the monitor. Maybe she didn't even notice that she died. Only I did. Like I noticed so many deaths before. Maybe that is the only advantage of my situation now. The only death I still will have to witness is my own.

Before I can sink deeper into my thoughts, suddenly, I see them. Or to be precise, actually, I hear them first. Voices. Human voices. "I still can't believe it's only been two years since we left," one of them says, "Just look at this mess. Good thing we got out of here early." "Right?!" the other one responds laughing. "And I thought the time on board was stressful, especially, towards the end. But it's nothing against whatever the hell happened here."

Humans. Walking, talking, joking humans. This can't be real. I rush to look at the monitor. Still only one lonely dot. I must have finally gone insane, not being able to stand the thought that I was last anymore. But when I lurk outside again, they are still there, and now close enough for me to recognize more details. Black uniforms with a silver star, black face masks and both carrying a PreciseWeapon. Space-link personal.

Days ago, Diah and I both saw what we had believed to be a small meteor. Instead, it must have been their shuttle entering the atmosphere. I am not insane. This makes sense. This is real. I know that probably should feel relief. Or happiness. Or pride. It surely would make sense to feel that way. After all, I just learned that humanity despite all might still prevail.

This should be a triumph, or least salvation. And yet, all it feels like is betrayal. "Two years since we left" the man had said. Two years ago, the omega variant hadn't even been discovered. Or at least so I thought. 'Thank God we got out of here early". They knew all along, soon and well enough to "get out early". If the earth had been a house on fire during the last years - as often depicted in political cartoons back when there were still people who drew such things and other who looked at it- they had always known the fire would come. But instead of warning the rest of us, they had snuk out of the house at night, watching it go up in flames from a safe distance. And now, where the dust had settled, they had come back to inspect the ruins and dig through the remains. Only that I was still here. A living dead, covered in ashes with burns on my skin. Still breathing, but surely not nice to look at. So why would they come to pick me up now?

Suddenly, the dominos cascaded in line and I sink back into my chair as the realization hits me. They are space link. The satellites are space-link. They don't show up on the monitor because they are not supposed to. And the PreciseWeapon is meant for me. I shiver. That's why Diah died so sudden and silent.The virus didn't get her. They did, with one precise shot in the back.

For a moment, I consider running. But just a moment. They could easily track me, and I don't want to spent my last moments being dragged out of a hiding place, nor do I want a bullet in the back.

No. I want them to look me in the eye. And I want them to know that I know.

I get up from my desk and turn away from the black monitor the lonely red dot. The door swings open, and the black uniforms enter. They look just like you would think they'd look. Painfully ordinary, with and faces reddened by excitement. For just a moment, I see a hint of surprise in their eyes. Then, the uniform on the right nods at the uniform on the left, who reaches for his weapon. If he feels any doubt, he is good at hiding it.

"Go ahead." I say. My voice is calm and firm. I can't say much, not in the short time it takes him to charge, aim and fire. But what I say, I mean. "I already died 8.6 billion times. One more won't matter."

I feel a numb pain as the projectile hits my chest, and then the edge of my table as I stumble backwards against it. And then, just before I hit the ground and my senses fade, I hear it. A cough. A familiar, dry cough. A cough I heard more times than I could count. And that is now coming from the direction of my shooter.

Alicent found Rhaenyra kneeling in the Sept, with her hands folded and eyes closed. Someone who didn't know her as well might have been fooled by the sight and believed the princess to be sunken in a deep prayer, but Alicent knew better. Her breath was a little too sharp, and not even the soft candle light could gloss over the hardened expression on her face. But sunken into a prayer or not, if Rhaenyra had noticed her entrance, she had decided to ignore it.

Alicent took one last, deep breath and stepped closer.

"Nyra...can we talk?"

The princess turned around, and for a moment Alicent was relieved that she hadn't decided to just ignore her. But only for a moment, before she saw the look in Rhaenyra's eyes that and the look was nothing else but a dagger aiming straight for Alicent's heart.

"Can't you see I am praying?"

She got up, still piercing Alicent with her eyes.

"And what would there be to talk about anyway? Whether you prefer to be addressed as 'Stepmother' or 'Queen Alicent' in the future?"

"No! Just....about everything that happened. And what it means for us."

Alicent tried to reach for Rhaenyra's hand, but her friend abruptly backed away.

"A bit late now, isn't it?", she asked and then, before Alicent had the chance to respond, added:"Why didn't you at least tell me before?"

Because I didn't want you to look at me like you are doing right now, Alicent thought. Because I couldn't gather the strength to do it, even though I tried again and again. Because I was clinging to the stupid and false hope that it would not get to this. "Because the king asked me to keep it secret. And my dear father adviced me the same"

Rhaenyra laughed. It sounded bitter and dry. "Already getting in the mode of being a dutiful wife, I see." She paused before she continued, a smile that didn't reach her eyes on the lips. "Your and my father both must be so pleased of what a wonderful job you did."

"What would it have changed anyway? Except for that you could have abandoned me earlier?"

The words had come out before Alicent could stop them, and they hung heavy in the air as fake smile vanished from Rhaenyra's face. Instead, it now only showed true and honest anger.

"Oh, so you are the one who is being abandoned? Be a dear and remind me again, who of us decided to marry who's father behind who's back?"

"You seriously think I chose this?" Alicent was yelling now, her voice echoing from the walls of the sept. She didn't care anymore.

"You think I would ever get to make a decision that's truly mine?"

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to answer, but Alicent answered her own question before she got the chance to.

"Of course not. You see, not everyone born to ride dragons and sit on thrones and do anything as they please. Some of us have to try very hard not to burn when you play with fire."

"Was being friends with me also just a duty then?", Rhaenyra finally asked in the silence that followed, her voice at once not more much more than a whisper. She looked so vulnerable, even fragile. As if the smallest breeze would be enough to shatter her into pieces. It broke Alicent's heart to see her like this."Something else you did to avoid getting burned?"

"Of course not."

Alicent reached for her friends cheek, afraid that she would flinch again but yet unable to bear the distance between them. She didn't. Instead, she put her hand on Alicent's.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know I have been an idiot."

Nyra paused, her face a battle ground of emotions as she struggled to continue speaking.

"I just...I felt like in all of this, you were the on person who was always on my side. No matter how much everyone in court kept belittling me, or which schemes my uncle was up to. Or how much even my own father seemed to doubt me despite naming me heir. So the thought of losing you like this scares me more than anything."

"But Nyra, I am on your side. And I always will be. You have to believe me. I promise. No, I swear, okay?"

The doubt she could still see in Nyra's eyes broke her heart even more, and Alicent knew that she would have given anything to make it disappear. But all she had were words.

"I swear it", she repeated, and then added: "by the old gods, and the new."

Alicent feared that Nyra would still doubt,or worse, mock her. This was all she had to offer, but when had what she could give ever been enough? Yet instead, it was now Rhaenyra who reached out to her.

"I do believe it."

Her palm on Alicent's cheek felt familiar and warm, as if that was the place where it truly belonged. As if this is was the palace where the both of them truly belonged, and as if there was no world around them in which she was excepted to be the king's contempt, beautiful wife and Rhaenyra the perfect, unassailable heir.

"Also, for what it's worth, I truly wish you would not have to bear this."

Alicent hesitated, but then she spoke the words she hadn't even allowed herself to think before.

"I honestly don't know if I can."

She could feel that was tearing up, and even worse, she could hear a familiar voice in the back of her mind screaming that was making a huge mistake. That she was sharing too much of herself with someone else, and that she was weak for doing so. At any other point, Alicent might have given into that voice. But just now the look in Nyra's eyes was kind and reassuring, and she felt safer than she had thought she ever could again. Alicent swallowed her tears and continued.

"All this time, I feel like I am dancing on a tightrope, with whole court watching in the audience. And they nod and clap and want to see more and more but I can feel that I about to trip. And when I do, nothing and no one will be there to hold me. So all I'll do is fall."

"I know there is nothing I could do to make this go away, even though I wish I could."

Nyra carefully wiped one the tears Alicent now just couldn't fight anymore of her face.

"But I will always be there to hold you. And you can always hold onto me. That I swear, by the old gods and the new."

A hint of a smile appeared on her face. A real one this time.

"If it's what you want, of course."

Her face glowed in the flickering candle light, and her very own fire flickered in her eyes. It was the most beautiful thing Alicent had ever seen. As the men had built a tower with bricks of honor and duty to keep her trapped for the rest of her life, Rhaenyra had always been a hole in the wall, a window through which sunlight was shining in. And for the first time in an eternity, Alicent allowed herself to embrace that light with no restraint.

"It is."