On the Morning after the Apocalypse

"On the Morning after the Apocalypse"


He stirred from his slumber on the morning after the apocalypse. As soon as he was able to reclaim consciousness and alleviate himself from the lethargy that was the product of his sudden awakening; He discerned that something was amiss. The initial detail that he observed was the present aroma of the air. It had an abnormal disparity not relative to its accustomed nature that he did not comprehend directly. Nevertheless, the more he lingered on the issue as he lay in bed thinking on the subject of it, he was finally able to understand what the dissimilarity was. The oxygen had a stale odor, as if it were a loaf of bread left out, yet never consumed.

The subsequent detail he observed was his perception of sound, or to be more precise, a lack of perception. There was entirely no sound that he could take notice of. Absent was the hum of automobiles driving down the street, the swish of the public walking and the echo of their conversations. There was no longer the twittering of birds, or the reverberation of his breathing or pounding heart which hastened if he were able to hear or feel it. It was with this awareness that he cried out, in silence. He screamed and he talked, he attempted humming, and finally clearing his throat. Not a single audible action would give way to resonance. He could only envision that he emerged deaf upon awakening. This conviction continued with him until he emerged from the bed, gazed through the windowpane, and understood that his situation was grim.

Outside his bedroom window he saw an absolute lack of existence. At the outset, there were no automobiles driving down the generally active street. Subsequently, there were no people walking their dogs, no one checking their post, nor a single man washing the car. After observing the lack of human life, he noted the absence of plant life. Every tree, flower, and shrub he could see from behind his windowpane was no longer flourishing, as they were the previous day. The foliage was now desiccated and decayed, as if they had been dead for weeks.

He swiftly dressed and sprinted outside. He anticipated what he had seen through the windowpane to be nothing more than a delusion brought upon by sleep. On the other hand, that was undoubtedly not the case. Everything was as lifeless outside of the house as it was when observed from within. In any other circumstance his heart would feel like it was about to leap out of his chest, but he could neither hear or feel it at all.

Abruptly the consideration of his girlfriend being left unaccompanied in all of this entered his mind. He sprinted to his truck. On the way there he noticed that no shadow reflected on the earth from the sun nor could he see shade provided by the trees. He looked up toward the sun only to see something stunningly unlike what he was used to. What he saw was a diminutive, murky orange sphere. The notion entered his mind that it appeared that the sun was lacking fuel; however it did not wish to cease wholly so it would persist giving off energy as it diminishes to nothingness. He looked upon it with astonishment. The illumination was dim enough to be glimpsed at directly without an apprehension for blindness. Once in the interior of his truck, he attempted to start the ignition, yet nothing happened. The machine gave off no sound. Now familiar with the lack of sound or sensation he had already witnessed, he attempted to drive it. Nothing happened. He cried out a silent curse as he set out on the two-block hike on foot.

He took note of a few more on the way to the abode of his girlfriend. There was no air stream. He did not feel the elegant sweep of a cool breeze upon his skin, nor did he observe branches swaying in the wind. This detail led to his second discovery. He could not sense temperature. He felt neither hot or cold, or anywhere in between. It was as if his body no longer had nervous receptors to generate sensations. Then he came to his final discovery on this walk. He should have felt fearful or at least anxious with this inconsistency of his ordinary existence. He desired to feel fearful and anxious or anything else. Any emotion would be better than this deficiency of sensitivity. Nevertheless, he felt absolutely devoid of any feeling or emotion.

In the distance he saw her dwelling. And prior to reaching it, he knew she was not there. He decided not to bother with an exploration. He knew that house was as vacant as every other house he had passed and as desolate as this town was. He continued on foot down the street en route for the edge of town. On the outskirts was a highway. It would take him to the next town which was seven miles away. The walk would take him about five hours, but he had to see if his was the only town entirely void of life, apart from for him.

For the duration of his journey he reflected about his girlfriend, the love of his life. And the notion of her vanishing, just like everyone else, made his eyes overflow with tears. He wept for her absence selfishly because now he would no longer be in receipt of love from her. He also wept for the ring he had back home. The one he had arranged to give to her that weekend as a result of his proposal for marriage. As he wept for her absence, he wept for his own presence. Could he have possible awaken this morning for the role of the sole human left on the face of the Earth? Once he reached the subsequent town, his list of potential explanations for this bizarre phenomenon reduced, and he did not like what he was left with.

He exhausted weeks roaming from town to town, stopping only for respite but for a few minutes (though he never felt tired) to eat (though he never felt hungry). Even though he felt nothing, it would not wound him to rest and eat. Each town he wandered through was as vacant as the preceding one. If he was able feel any emotions, he would feel terrified about this situation. Nevertheless, onward he journeyed, transversely across the state. Then after awhile he crossed from this state into the next. This one was just as barren as the state he had entirely walked through. Of course, his deficiency of emotions and sensation did not prevent a voice from materializing in his psyche.

Initially he did not give himself into conversing with the voice. He challenged himself to disregard it. However his isolation got the better of him and he could no longer journey without a companion. And he was willing to receive the words of anyone, including an imaginary companion. In addition, there was not a single individual nearby to inquire upon the condition of his mindset. He initiated conversation with the voice in his mind as soon as it began to advise him to commit suicide.

Within his psyche, he requested the voice to enlighten him as to why he ought to commit suicide. Why do you, in spite of everything, aspire to remain alive? He told the voice that there may possibly be somebody present in the world and, he did not want to give up hope. You do not understand, do you? There is no hope in this world. Everything has passed on. All life, all emotion, and hope cease to exist. All that exists is no longer. There is nothing left to accomplish save for ending your life. He informed the voice that he had not witnessed sufficient evidence to prove that to be factual. And he would maintain his search for life until he had explored the entire world. You are the lone human left. You have become acquainted with this deep within your hushed heart. You will not discover an additional living thing, human or otherwise upon this exhausted planet. At present, just you and I exist. It shall not be long for you to realize what you must do.

One week conceded into the next in lieu of the last man on earth. The voice persistently taunted him as he journeyed through one vacant city after another. By means of each empty city he left, he spoke to the voice more frequently, until he began to consider it an ally. It was, in spite of everything, the only thing left in the world to keep him occupied and dwell with him always. Who else, apart from a friend, would look after him in the peculiar situation? Initially, the voice did not broach to the matter of suicide as he did previously. The voice was aware that the man had been assessing the issue from the time when it was first declared. The voice was, after all, contained by the psyche of the man who had recently befallen disheartened and eccentric. His appearance was currently disheveled and dejected. Yet, there was no necessity to impress with form when being the sole living thing still in existence.

Month after month passed by, and he developed more disheveled and unstable than he had ever been. He and the voice knew that he could not go on much further living this isolated life. When he entered a vacant café he discovered his one way ticket out of this reality. Upon the counter was a cash register (still packed with currency) and adjacent to the register was a 9mm Glock. Why not? This may be your only opportunity. All you have to do is pull the trigger and it will all be finished swiftly. Then you may unite with who have departed before you to sleep and dream perpetually. Instead of quarrelling with the voice like he had in the past, he nodded. He knew the voice was right. This unquestionably was no way to live a life. He could no longer bare being forlorn. He picked up the glock with his right hand and inspected the magazine. It was loaded to capacity with ten rounds. Although he knew he only required one bullet to get the job done correctly. He pushed the clip back in and cocked the weapon. As he held the handgun to his head, directly over his right ear, he closed his eyes and spoke a soundless, “I always knew I would die alone.” He pulled the trigger.

He was still alive. Sure, he heard no gunfire or felt pain. He did not anticipate any, from what he had previously experienced in this world. However, he sincerely did not presume to still be here. Yet he was still within the interior of this café. The gun did not discharge; reminiscent of how his truck would not start on the morning he awoke to this abandoned world. The voice cackled at him. Such a dupe you are. You ought to have known what would have transpired by now. No mechanism has operated since this world has passed on. He chucked the glock to the floor and sprinted to a room in the rear of the counter. It was the kitchen. He walked en route for a shelf that contained silverware and chose a carving knife. You are planning on plunging that knife into your chest? Do not fret; it will not pain you, as you have discerned. He abided by the words of the voice and plunged it deep into his chest, piercing his heart. No pain, as he expected. On the other hand, when he opened his eyes after thrusting the utensil within him, he was, even now, in the kitchen. He did not understand.

Yet part of him did understand. The voice within his psyche understood. After all, the voice was nothing more than a representation of his unhinged mentality. The voice cackled at him yet again. You comprehend it now, don’t you? Nothing is alive, nothing works. So is it too long of a stretch to say that death has departed if life no longer exists? How can death survive when life does not? He did not understand. He was alive, was he not? If death survives because life does, why was it not here to claim him as well? Perhaps once life believed it had completed its labor, death knew it was complete as well. Both misplaced your life by misfortune. Now you subsist in limbo contained by a world that has moved on without you. He could only speculate what would ensue. You cannot live or die. Yet you exist. It seems you will exist perpetually, abandoned within this dead world. Now you know everything.

This disclosure was sufficient for him to completely enclose himself within his own delusions. He would never cease to exist in this world that has moved on without him. He inquired the voice to see if it had any thoughts of what to carry out next. The voice did not respond. He summoned and beckoned for it in silence, for hours on end. Even though he knew it would not reply, he called nevertheless. The voice had moved on, just like the rest of the world had. He was now left absolutely alone, entirely severed from the rest of humanity and even his own psychosis. He would dwell forevermore deserted and enduring within a dead world. He wanted to scream, but he could not. He could not feel emotions either. This provided him with an undying suffering he would never elude. He was nothing more than a shell of a man that cannot live nor die, yet is cursed to exist for eternity.