1

 

Edon was afraid to open his eyes. His dreams had been vivid and rich. So much richer than his wakeful hours had been over the last three days. He was aware of the light permeating his eyelids, he could feel the sheets that enveloped him, and he was desperately trying to pick up any scent. There seemed to be none. He knew his window was wide open and there ought to be many odors in the mild autumn air. But he couldn’t smell any of them.

It had gotten worse by the day, and he was terrified to discover what cruel twist nature had in store for him this time. To cut short his agony, he swiftly opened his eyes widely and scanned the room with eyes jerking from one corner to the other. Everything was still there. The colors were normal. He calmed down, but realized the day was long from over.

After a small breakfast, which had tasted slightly sweeter than usual, he ventured outside. His world was an idyllic one, chosen from ancient romantic novels, including the stark seasonal contrasts with all their sensory pleasures. He managed not to grow tired of it and hadn’t switched for over a hundred years.

The smells that are so typical for autumn were not there. They hadn’t been there yesterday, and the day before that they had been a mere hint in the air, instead of the full-blown aromatic spectrum he was used to. Hesitantly, reluctant to enforce his fears, he picked up a golden birch leaf and held it close to his nose. Not the slightest hint of any fragrance. Just before wanting to drop it, he froze. Something else about the leaf was not right. It had no texture. The texture of a birch leaf might not be exceptional, but the total absence of it was odd. Edon noticed the contours were ridiculously simple. Putting the leaf in his pocket, hoping it was a mere coincidence, he walked over to a chestnut tree and picked up one of its fallen leaves to examine it. Little or no texture. The muscles in his body tensed and he felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

Adal was living in a similar world and the compatibility had turned them into friends. When Edon appeared on his doorstep, Adal wasn’t surprised at all, but he immediately noticed the fear that engulfed the face in front of him.

“Greetings, Adal,” Edon said with a forced smile, betraying an uncanny anxiety.

“Hello, Edon. You look worried! Has it gotten worse?”

He clumsily put a dozen leaves into the hands of Adal. “Look! Look!” Edon started pacing through the room, almost crying.

“Oh no, it’s continuing…” Adal had no idea how to comfort his friend. “Anything else…?”

“Yes, the smells, they are completely gone! And a couple of minutes ago I examined my hands. Look! Look, Adal!” He held his hands in front of Adal’s eyes.

The fine skin texture had melted into a homogenous and dull color.

“If this goes on, I’ll be gone tomorrow! I can’t understand it. I’m not going mad, am I? I mean, I can think straight, I can remember everything. But my dreams feel more real to me now than reality!”

Edon sat down and put his hands over his head. “Why is this happening to me? Why?!”

“It isn’t happening to you only, Edon,” Adal said after a while. Edon raised his head and stared at Adal blankly. “You? You…too…?”

“No,” said Adal, “and it’s bugging me. There are reports from all over the universe. Planets vanishing, whole clusters fusing into odd shapes, oceans without waves, cloudless skies. Everything is getting bland and duller!”

“You heard about this? When?!” Edon’s eyes stayed locked to Adal’s, wanting to hear every bit of information that would help him get out of this nightmare.

“Just yesterday,” Adal said. “You know we live pretty secluded lives by choice, news doesn’t reach us very quickly. Apparently it has been going on for three or four days.”

Edon threw his head back, realizing that it had all started about three days ago. Tastes, colors, small things.

“Are you saying everyone is experiencing this?”

“Yes,” said Adal, “that seems to be what I’m hearing.” He paused. “Except…outside of your leaves and hands, I haven’t noticed anything.”

“You haven’t noticed the changes in texture, the lack of smells, the colors…? Anything?” Edon grabbed Adal’s hands. They were fully textured. He ran outside, snatched a handful of leaves and inspected them. Fully textured with complex edges. And the aroma in the air! Edon filled his lungs with the autumn air he loved so much.

He came back in, crying again. “What is happening? Why not you?”

“I don’t know! Maybe something is wrong with me!” Adal dropped into a chair. “We’ve known each other for, what, eighty years now? Has anything like this ever happened anywhere?”

Edon didn’t reply and there was a long silence, during which both of them seemed to try to figure out an explanation, but realized this was way above their capacity to comprehend.

After a small eternity, Edon asked Adal whether it was okay for him to stay at his place for a while, since his own environment seemed to be falling apart. Adal agreed and was relieved. This was not something one should have to endure alone.

 

2

 

Three thousand years into the new era, the Earth was a lush and green planet, abound in wildlife. The last human being to roam the planet was elevated into the Universe over two thousand five hundred years ago. “The Universe” was an extremely elaborate device, that plugged into the human brain’s somatic nervous system and was capable of simulating any kind of environment the brain desired. Any muscular action the brain ordered was translated into a simulated action in the Universe. The human body had therefore become wholly redundant and was detached from the brain shortly before elevation. The brain was placed in an environment that allowed it to survive several hundred years.

To maintain the installations that made up the Universe, robots were used. They were also responsible for eventual cloning procedures, or other reproductive processes where the DNA of two people were merged into a new person, elevated into the Universe at birth.

Reproduction had caused the population count of elevated individuals to rise to three hundred billion, causing a great many installations to be built in several locations on Earth.

During the early phase of the Universe, elevated humans still had contact with the real world through devices such as exploration robots that interfaced with the device, but the possibilities of the Universe were so vast that most individuals lost interest in the real world and preferred to live out their fantasies in the Universe. Communication between elevated humans was perfectly possible within the Universe and nobody saw any use for the real world, riddled with dangers, disease, and discomfort. The real world was all but forgotten after a thousand years.

 

3

 

Edon had been staying a mere two days at Adal’s place when his face started to show triangular artifacts that reminded Adal of an abstract painting. His voice didn’t have the same timbre as usual and sounded monotonous. Conversation with Edon, however, was still normal. He had experienced no discomfort, outside of the mental agony.

Adal knew he was losing Edon, and probably everyone else in the universe. During the last two days he had done some exploring, and every place he could dream up seemed real enough to him, without any lack of odor or color or texture. Everything seemed just as perfect to him as it had been for three hundred years.

The people he visited and their environments, however, were in the same state as Edon and his environment, reduced to elementary building blocks and devoid of any complexity.

All Adal could do was to host Edon in his environment and let him enjoy it for as long as he could.

On the third day, Edon was gone. So was everybody else. Adal was alone in the universe.

 

4

 

The robots had spotted the comet two hundred days before impact. It had the size of a small town.

Two days after impact, the Earth was smothered in ashes and toxic fumes. Lava was flowing freely on all continents. All wildlife was extinguished.

Installations were being eaten by lava, one by one. The Universe had automatically concentrated all remaining computing power to the bare essentials, which were rapidly diminishing by the day. Most energy went into keeping the organic brains alive and functional.

After the last installation had gone up in flames, and with it over three hundred billion souls, all that was left of humanity was the one thinking entity on board of a small installation in geostationary orbit, launched exactly twenty days ago, with the randomly selected elevated brain that goes by the name of “Adal.”