Humans: Technically Extinct
(A Humans are Space Orcs short story)
Naant was in hysterics. Though she had only been dating Michael for three months, she felt they were destined to be soulmates. Now, the cold, cruel universe saw fit to take him away. No, it couldnāt be true. She threw the dataslate at the wall, rendering the workplace accident report nearly illegible, and burst out of her quarters. She had to see him. She had to.
Naant practically bulldozed half the crew on her way to the elevator. Before she pressed the button, she glanced at the seldom used staircase. It was faster, provided gravity wasnāt a concern. Naant had wings. She nearly broke the doors off their hinges and literally threw herself down the staircase. A short thirty-five floor drop later, she arrived at the medical ward.
After a brief interrogation of one of the nurses, she blitzed down the hall, threw open Michaelās door, and nearly collapsed on the spot. Even through a waterfall of tears, she recognized the mess of wreckage that lay on the bed. Naant gripped the doorframe and screamed.
āAAAH! WAHWHAT? WHAT? WHATāS WRONG?!ā
Naantās heart nearly stopped. Michaelās nearly-severed head startled awake and was staring at her. āOh, god-hi Naant! Please stop screaming.ā
. . .
Naant was dazed. āDazedā didnāt properly convey what she was experiencing, but it was the closest English word she knew to the feeling of finding out your significant other was a robot.
āAgain, Iām not a robot.ā
Naant made an exasperated noise that vaguely translated to āwhat the fuck is all this then???ā and gestured up and down to Michael. There wasnāt a single thing on the bed that could be described as āorganic.ā
āNaant, this is what humansā¦ are. All of us. We havenāt been a fully organic species in hundreds of years.ā
Naant sank into her chair and stared at the ceiling. Talking to the nearly severed head of your lover was difficult.
āIsā¦ is this why you donāt talk about your parents? Who built you?ā
Michael made an exasperated noise of his own.ļæ¼ļæ¼
āNaant, I donāt talk about my parents because theyāre colossal assholes, and I was BORN July 7th, 4092.ā
ā40ā¦ 92? When wasā¦?ā
āUhh, thatās likeā¦ 3138 on the Assana calander?
āYOUāRE THREE-HUNDRED YEARS OLD?!ā
Michael winced at the thought. He still felt young. It was hard not to when you havenāt aged a day since you were twenty-five.
Naant felt dizzy. āSoā¦ how..?ā She gestured once more to the mess on the bed.
āWhen humans reach twenty-one, they can opt in to get series of vaccines. They change how your body produces cells; makes them better. Gradually, these cells become less and less organic, and after a time, you stop being able to walk through metal detectors.ā
Though Michael couldnāt see, Naant did indeed smirk at the joke. She sunk further into the chair.
āAre youā¦ ok?ā
āMAYBE?!ā Naant threw her arms in the air. āIām glad you arenāt dead, but I also want to punt you like a ball!ā
An awkward silence followed, interrupted intermittently by the sounds of the medical ward.
āSoā¦ are all humans are synthetic now?ā
āPretty much. Humanityās birthrate is basically zero because of how long we live. Itās pretty rare to find a human under two-hundred. Nowadays, you could probably count the number of ārealā humans on one hand.ā
One of Michaelās dismembered hands waved at Naant. Naant sat up and glared at Michael. He winced.
āCan you still have kids?ā
Michael anticipated nearly a half-dozen questions, but that was not one of them.
āY-yeah..? We get ourā¦ uh, ācodesā recorded before the first vaccine. Thereās anā¦ āattachmentā that we can order from the clinic that-ā ļæ¼
āGood, shut up.ā
Michael shut up.
Naant rose from the chair, thoroughly exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions that the morning had put her through.
āIām going back to bed, and after this gets sortedā¦ā
Naant once again gestured to Michaelās ruined frame.
āā¦you are going to join me.ā
Naant kissed Michaelās head and left, leaving Michael completely dazed. āDazedā didnāt properly describe the feeling, butā¦ well, Michael didnāt know the Assana word for ālovestruck.ā
