I, Cassandra

74 | AMADI EZENWA

It's all shit. For a second time, Ryan Maddox has walked away from me, and this time he has taken the one who gave me purpose, who gave me a reason to fight to survive in this depressing, lonely, alien place. Now, all that's left for me is to wait for the pod to wake up its passenger—the one I tried to kill. The one Ryan stopped me from killing.

Even after a week, I still can barely look at the pod—a sentinel of a world long gone—my shame is so great. What if there is a child in there? Who have I become that I could even consider ending their life as if I am a god and have the power to decide who lives and who dies? And so, here I sit, alone once more in the scant shade of the trees, their thin trunks a grid against the intense blue of the skies, and dwell on a single thought: I am a murderer. And it was a machine who condemned me.

I don't even know how to pick it apart, to understand myself or what I have become. I was a good kid. I hated what the powers of the world did to the planet, I wanted to make things right, and all I have done is make things wrong. I gave the order to murder one million people. They suffered and died horrible, painful deaths because of me. I could have refused. I could have, but I didn't. I chose this path. I ended up here, under these alien trees because I was selected by the Prime Minister to get a free ticket out of hell.

I laugh, but it's a bitter thing. I thought I was going to get my revenge for what happened to Adiana, instead, all I got was what I deserved. And when I had a second chance to do the right thing—to tell Cassandra that I had found Ryan, of his devastation when he found her pod already open and her not there—to ease her suffering, to help her search for him, I said nothing. Instead, I held her while she cried, while she grieved for him, and willed it all to go away.

The truth bores into me like a worm in a rotten apple. I am a total piece of shit. I am no better than the ones who ran Global Command and tore the world apart for their own selfish purposes. My father would be so disappointed in me. I am not this man. I am not. I am Amadi Ezenwa, the man who loved Adiana, who wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. To be indomitable, like him. I am still that man, somewhere under all the bad I have done. I just have to find a way back to him.

Nests. I could hunt for more abandoned nests in case whoever is in the pod is a woman. My thoughts race away, eager to escape and explore projects I could do to prepare for the passenger's awakening, like Cassandra did. She made a hat for them but it's an awful thing. I could make a better one. I get up. Yes. I'm a liar, a coward and a shit, but I am going to make it right somehow. I am going to be that man again. A good man. Even here. No matter what. No matter who's in that pod. I'm going to be good. I'm going to redeem myself because I can't stand who I've become.

The walk to the lake takes a few hours and the search through the stiff blades of the shore grasses for nests eats up several more, but I find three nice clean nests out of a dozen and I am pleased with the haul. It feels good to be doing something, even if it's hot as fuck and sweat is running down the crack of my ass. I decide to take a quick dip in the lake, just to cool off before I head back.

I know there's a chance the pod could awaken its passenger while I'm gone, but it's been sitting there for ten thousand years, so the chances of it activating while I stop for a quick swim are low enough to give me the confidence to wade in up to my waist and give myself a little time to simply exist here in this place, to find some pleasure in it—something I realise I have never done before.

The water feels good, and the lake's sandy bottom puffs with little explosions as I work my way in.

'One small step for mankind,' I say. I have no idea why I do, it just happens, but as I submerge myself down to my shoulders it feels appropriate. No one else has been in this lake before. No one. I am sure of it.

I gaze at its expanse. All this water, all this space, and only me, Cassandra, Ryan—whatever he is—and whoever is in the pod remain out of the entire history of humans on Earth. It's a huge thing to wrap my head around, how everything we achieved as a race has come to this: me in a lake with a shitty beard waiting for someone who's been frozen for ten thousand years to wake up. I don't let the thought that they might not wake up during my lifetime take root. It's a possibility, but I can't leave them, I won't. If I do just one thing right, it will be this: If they don't wake up before I go, I will at least leave behind something for them to make a start. Already I am thinking about building a better shelter, I could carry rocks back from the nearest ravine. It will take forever, but what the hell else do I have to do? Nothing. There is only this: To think of who comes next. To prepare for them.