It was a shame. It really, really was.
Eva Stratt observes the heart monitor, watching as the green line jumps up and down rhythmically. The machine reads a BPM of 65. SpO2 reads 99. By all accounts, Ryland was perfectly healthy.
Eva sits in a plastic chair, one leg crossed over the other as she watches the man in the hospital bed and follows the slow movements of his chest. There's a scrape on Ryland's cheek— likely from when he was chased down.
She doesn't feel guilty about it. Guilt was an emotion meant to drive change. It was an emotion that forced hindsight, that said, "You could have done better. You could have been stronger, smarter, faster. You should have done this differently."
Eva feels guilty about very little. She's said and done things that— a few decades ago, when she still had a spark in her eyes and the world in the palm of her hands— would have revolted her. She's had a direct hand in things that, in the past, would have encouraged her to take out the bottle in her cabinet labeled 'VENLAFAXINE HCL 225mg' and down it in one go.
She's had to come to terms with quite a lot. If there is a hell— if it is not the planet she lives on and is instead another, nebulous location— Eva knows that is where she will go. She is content with that fact.
Humans are weak. It is not a criticism. It is a fact. Humans were motivated by survival— their survival, individually. Humans were animals who reacted on instinct, who were entirely motivated by making it to the next day.
Eva is not concerned with the next day. She is concerned with the next decade, the next century. She is concerned with the children who streamed out of Ryland's classroom with bright laughter and wide, oblivious grins.
She has accepted her role in ensuring the future of these children. It makes her hated. It makes her reviled. It makes people confused and scared and, "Why, why, why are you doing this please don't do this-"
Ryland Grace was one of the few that understood. He knew what it was like to be misunderstood. He did not see Eva as cruel because she did what needed to be done. He did not look at her with the fear that so many others had. She will miss that.
Eva does not lie to herself. She knows that she will miss him. She will miss his intelligence. She will miss his— admittedly endearing— fumbling. She will miss the ease with which he smiled in the face of adversity.
Yet Eva does not feel guilty about putting him on the ship. It is what must be done. It is the only chance humanity has to see another sunny day, another generation filled with beauty and warmth and the desperation to survive.
"I will not apologize for this," Eva begins, voice unwavering. Ryland does not respond, eyes closed and oxygen mask strapped to his face. She continues, "We both know it is necessary. But,"
She swallows. Her eyes tingle in the way she only allows after 10:30 PM, when she lays in bed and tries to find something to be guilty for.
"But I do wish there had been another way."
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