End of the Line

Not even if you were the last man on Earth.

She said that three years ago. At the time I was speechless, and just stood there with a dumb look on my face. How I wish I could respond to her now.

Well, we’re not on Earth anymore, but I am the last man. Does that count?

Probably not. Doesn’t matter. She’s long gone, along with the rest of humanity.

There’s a calmness that comes from knowing that you are the last of your species. End of the line. No one can ever look down on you for not being smart enough, or strong enough, or successful enough. At least compared to other Homo Sapiens. Conversely, you’ll never again fall in love, laugh with friends, or share any kind of true companionship. Alpha Centaurians are likable enough, but they don’t really have “friendships” like humans. Maybe their inability for emotion comes from having their brains in their stomachs. Or maybe they just don’t like me.

I hand my ticket to the Centaurian agent and board the starliner.

Same ship. Different day.

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