Annihilation of Humanity

Year: 2375

The atmosphere within the room was suffocating, a palpable tension hanging in the air, as visible as the sterile white walls surrounding them. The Chancellor’s voice echoed through the silence, a tremor of uncertainty creeping into his usually composed tone. “Can we not find an alternate solution?” he queried with a sense of desperation.

Kishida-Guan, lead scientist and one of only three individuals who’d attained the level of holy one, cleared his throat before responding, his voice resonating with an ominous gravity. “Chancellor,” he began, his words heavy with regret and resignation. “I have run countless simulations and yet the outcome remains unaltered—”

“Your projections?” The Chancellor interrupted him abruptly, his tone dripping with worry.

A sigh escaped from Kishida-Guan as if he bore the weight of their entire world on his shoulders. “If we do not expedite the construction process—”

“I did not ask that you elaborate!” The Chancellor’s voice sliced through the air like a blade. “I am fully cognizant of our urgency! How much time do we have?”

“My apologies, Chancellor,” he acquiesced with a respectful nod. “Fifty years.”

A deep silence enveloped the room, hanging in the air like an impending storm cloud waiting to release its torrential downpour, as the Chancellor processed this revelation. Kishida-Guan stood rigid; hands clasped tightly together in an attempt to stifle any sign of nervousness. He wished he could decipher what went on behind those steely eyes as easily as their advanced technology translated the Chancellor’s thoughts into speech.

Eventually, after what felt like an infinite wait encapsulated in mere seconds, the Chancellor spoke again, his voice soft yet laden with implication. “Fifty years if construction is unsuccessful?” His voice echoed ominously around them. “And how long would it take for you, and your fellow scientists, to finalize this project?”

“Given that we are venturing into uncharted territories,” Kishida-Guan replied cautiously, “an accurate estimate is difficult to provide. However, we anticipate it would take approximately twenty to twenty-five years.”

“That long?” The Chancellor’s voice reverberated with disbelief and disappointment.

“Indeed, this endeavor has never been undertaken in our time,” the holy one reminded him gently. “While we do have rudimentary formulas from the before time as a starting point, none have successfully transformed theory into a working prototype, let alone a functional model. I feel I must emphasize, Chancellor, that the fifty years is only an estimate. After all, there is no way to provide a date with precision, any more than I can state, with certainty, the length of time in which this project is likely to be concluded.”

“So, it could be fifty years or more…or less.” The Chancellor fell into another contemplative silence. After an agonizingly long span of time, he spoke again, his tone grave and somber. “With things disintegrating so rapidly…perhaps it is time, Saik, for us to yield to the inevitable.”

Kishida-Guan’s eyes widened in shock—not only because the Chancellor addressed him by his first name; a name he’d not heard in more than a century, as no one beneath him dared address him thus as the holy of holies—but also because of the dejection in his tone. He’d known the leader of their realm for all of their lives, even before the Chancellor’s metamorphosis, and never had he heard him speak with such defeatism. “Evander?” He queried briefly, using the Chancellor’s given name in response to his being used—although it had taken him a moment to even recall it since he’d not used it in an eternity. Still, he felt that if the Chancellor could address him thus, he could return the favor.

The Chancellor snorted, “It sounds strange, doesn’t it? Hearing names we haven’t used since we were but younglings.”

“I was taken aback by your sudden decision to address me thus, I must admit. Why did you? Given our elevated status, it seems a sparkless echo of what once was.”

“If things are as dire as you have portrayed…I guess I wanted to briefly return to a time of innocence.”

“Are you really ready to give up on all that we have worked so hard to achieve?”

“We have done much for humanity over the centuries. Perhaps it is time for us to let our society perish,” he continued with an air of resignation. “Especially considering that the genetic template from which we fabricate—”

“I vehemently disagree, Chancellor,” Kishida-Guan interjected passionately, dropping the informalities. “Our society represents perfection that took centuries of painstaking effort to achieve—”

“And yet,” the Chancellor interrupted him again, his tone bitter, “centuries ago, there was pestilence and war, famine and genocide, but the human race staggered onward in its rebelliousness, daring adversity with a stubbornness that defied prudence. And through that resolute boldness, humankind survived. Our ancestors lived through the tail end of that era; was at the forefront of the change that brings us to where we are now. There is an antiquated saying that hindsight is twenty-twenty, and never before have I felt the truth of that as I do now. Where did we err in our beliefs that society would be enhanced through the eradication of individuality, the elimination of free will, and the obliteration of human emotions?”

“We did not remove all of that, we simply suppressed things so that humankind became more effectual,” the holy one argued. “And our efforts have evolved into an enviable society that functions seamlessly in harmonious productivity.”

“And within those efforts, we have forgotten what it means to be human,” the Chancellor rejoined quietly.

The holy one opened his mouth to respond but found himself momentarily speechless; none had ever dared question their societal evolution before—certainly not one of the creators of that society. After a moment of contemplation, he responded defiantly, “I firmly believe that there was no error in our societal evolution—”

“Yet here we stand on the precipice of oblivion.” The Chancellor cut him off again grimly.