Shelby Fisher
Blank Mind, Blank Mirror
I try to open my eyes, but all I see is darkness. The cold, hard shadows hit me in the face, wanting its presence known. This emptiness enveloped me, but I was not afraid. I have known this darkness all my life and have come to understand it well. It is my destiny to embrace this darkness, for I have no other purpose. I do not hate myself and I do not hate others, but I have no choice in the matter. I was created to destroy and destroy I must.
“But why me?” A small voice murmurs next to my ear. I turn around but no one is there. Then I remember. There is only me here; this is not a place for anyone else but myself.
“But why must I be born to do such a horrid deed?” The fragile voice pushes, “Why must I look this way?” The comment causes me to look down at my hands. They aren’t my hands anymore. Instead of soft, living skin I see silver blue metal hands with abnormal joints and movements. Curious, I flex the hand and it moves. I turn to my other hand and see that it’s the same. Instead of panicking, I start to wonder. What am I exactly? I walk over to a floating mirror, it materializing into view on my right, my feet not touching any floor but propelling me anyway. The large, antique mirror has golden swirls along its frame. The longer I stare at the frame, the more lost in thought I become. Realizing I am getting off task, I face the mirror once more to find a young woman staring back at me. She has a small, oval face with bright blue eyes that seem to sparkle whenever she blinks. Her wavy strawberry blonde hair flows like a waterfall down to her delicate shoulders. Although her face looks fragile, her shoulders reveal her confidence and her smile shows reassurance. I know right away this lady is a good person.
Much like the mirror, the longer I examine the woman, the more my surroundings become unimportant. I know this girl, but who could she be? Stepping closer, I place one metal hand on the smooth mirror and then jump back in horror. The woman has a metal hand too! That’s when I realize the woman isn’t a stranger, she is me! Once I calm down, I go back to the mirror. Something isn’t right. The girl looks sad, but I feel content. Why is my reflection so different?
“You do not belong here,” the voice from before hisses in my ear, this time seeming to be in my head. I direct my attention to my reflection once more and blink in surprise. My reflection is no longer there. Instead, the mirror shows a shallow black void with no clue as to where the young woman had left.
I begin to panic as I frantically swivel around in circles, trying to find the girl. Where did she go? Where can she be? Then it hit me. If I don’t have a reflection, am I not real? My palms begin to sweat at the thought of not being able to live. My mouth becomes as dry as sand when I try to yell out, prohibiting any sound to be made.
As I spin around once more to look for my reflection, my feet don’t meet any resistance and I fall forward. Down and down I descend, with my world flying past me as I drop towards my death. My hair whipping my face mercilessly, I rotate in midair to glance at the bottom. Instead of spikes or flat ground, I see a small bed with a quilt of different purple hues below me. I collide with the mattress, rolling a bit until I thump my head on the headboard. Falling into unconsciousness, the last image I see is of a little girl in a photograph. The small child is all metal and standing beside a middle-aged man in a lab coat, looking very proud and serious about his work. The girl stares back at the camera, with neither a grin on her face or a smile in her eye. Her eyes, a delicate shade of blue, gaze blankly ahead, seeming to be looking right at me. I shudder in terror at her unwanted attention as everything goes black.
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I sit up in my purple bed, stretching my arms to shake off the sleep. I instinctively look down at my hands, seeing only supple beige skin. Wondering why in the world I was staring at my hands, I kick off the covers and sit with my legs hanging off the bed. A few minutes later, I realize I’m staring at an empty space on my nightstand, where something should be. Not knowing why I am acting so strange, I jump off my bed and head for the dresser, figuring I am just tired from lack of sleep. But wait – I did sleep for the whole night with no interruptions. How could I possibly have been up the whole night? I stand there, getting dressed, as I try my hardest to remember my dream – or was it a nightmare? The only image I can make out is a giant floating mirror, illuminated by an invisible light from below. It’s just hovering by itself in darkness. But why? I decide it was probably unimportant and head down the hall for breakfast.
Several hours later, I’m sitting upright in my chair, nervously glancing at the main screen. All I see is a dull blue meteor with brown blotches surrounded by drifting dirt. The disfigured rock is growing slightly larger and larger as we approach it. I am looking at Earth, once beautiful and clean, now destroyed beyond repair.
Earth had exploded thousands of years ago due to an unknown cause. All that was left were chunks of it, sprinkled with a few small lakes leftover from the oceans. The cotton candy clouds had turned into thin wisps of dirt, adding more attributes to this lovely specimen. I was the only known survivor of what everyone calls The Great Boom. Looking at it again causes my stomach to turn and a wave of guilt to wash over me, but I can’t understand why. So I just ignore the feeling and focus on the mission at hand.
Most of my crew is from Mars or another solar system; I’m the only human on this ship. It doesn’t bother me much, it actually brought me fame. I am currently the captain of this ship and I have worked my butt off to get here.
As my mind wanders to tonight’s dinner, I am interrupted by my navigator - a Bleemor from Jupiter - causing me to jump in my seat.
“We’re nearing Earth, Sabrina,” he loudly informs me, clicking his tongue from time to time. The Bleemor - I call him Potato because he looks like a green potato with appendages - turns back towards the front and continues to watch the map, leaving me free to daydream.
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I had accidentally fallen asleep in my cushy chair, dreaming of chocolate cakes and cookies, when something poked me in the cheek. Blinking away my slumber, I stretch my stiff arms and look over to see Potato gritting his teeth in anger. Smiling at his silly face, I innocently ask, “What ever is the matter, Potato?” This causes steam to erupt from Potato’s ears as he fumes further.
“What is the matter? What is the matter?!” he practically screeches. I flinch at his fury and try to hide behind my knees. I never like it when Potato is upset with me. Usually people are respectful towards me but not Potato. He is the only creature on this ship that thinks I need improvement. I wouldn’t necessarily call it resentment, but rather concern. At least, I like to think of it that way.
I quiver in fear of punishment. Would it be hanging by my ankles on the ceiling? Taking apart a robot and putting it together again? Washing Potato’s feet?! I shudder at the memory of having to scrub Potato’s green and smelly feet, the dirt and tiny organisms falling off as I clean.
Instead of stating a punishment, Potato just sighs and mutters, “Humph. Well, I’ve had a rough enough day already, so I don’t really feel like dealing with you. Next time you’re tired, Sabrina, drink a quappuccino.” My mouth waters at the thought of drinking a delicious quappuccino with milk, chocolate, coffee and spicy Bleemon whipped cream.
An hour later, I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, counting down the seconds until we land on Earth.
“Five… Four… Three… Two… One… YES!” I shout and I jump up and down in excitement. For a few minutes, I wildly dance around the control room with my fellow crewmates. This is it! The day I’ve been dreaming about, thinking about and talking about has finally come!
Slipping on my thin space suit and breathing mask, I open the door and head outside. The terrible sight stops me in my tracks and I stand there in hopelessness. The ground no longer consists of sidewalks and grass. There’s only dust and a fine powder that resembles dried up red dirt. I continue along, taking in the view as I travel. My favorite library has been smashed to bits, the old gray stone building now a pile of small pebbles. If one looks close enough they can see fragments of books scattered about. I had spent several hours a day at the library and now it’s gone forever. I stroll over to the remains of the town’s fountain. What used to be two dolphins jumping in the air is rubble. Dolphin parts can probably be found in the mountain of rocks and stone, but I can’t bring myself to look.
As I keep moving, I’m continually reminded of the catastrophe of Earth. On my left used to be an old church where the people would sing and dance, their positive thinking leaving no room for the idea of an apocalypse. On my right there was O’Haley Park, where every family joined together for the Summer Festival and competed in a handful of laugh-inducing activities.
What disturbs me most is the sky. It’s dark beige, with visible dirt hovering about and only a few rays of sunlight. Because of the lack of sun and carbon dioxide, plants are unable to re-grow on the chunks of Earth. Not that the plants would help much with the scenery anyway. Earth is pretty far gone.
I knew Earth was going to look like this, but seeing the disaster all the same distresses me. Why did I want to visit here? Because it was my home.
I didn’t know how much time had passed before I notice how far I had wandered. As I look about, I realize I ended up at Rivoli Lake, my favorite reading spot in the past. I would bike over to Rivoli Lake every day at three o’clock when Earth was still intact. Every time I arrived, the lake never ceased to impress me. Parking my silver bike on the bike racks, I would grab my favorite book and sit down on a natural boulder beside the water. I could never resist taking in the view before reading. The lake was enormous, stretching farther than I could see, the wind rippling the water and sending it east. Small sloping hills surrounded Rivoli Lake on three sides, causing the onlooker to think they were in a valley with only the slopes for an escape. But then one would hear the cars whizzing behind on the highway.
After some searching, one would find a barn or two, peeking up from behind the hills, not wanting to obstruct your view but needing to be seen. Light green grass was everywhere water wasn’t. Tall trees would rustle in the breeze, creating a sound that resembled a hushed waterfall. Beside me there were but a few flowers, but if one were to continue they would spot fields upon fields of flowers of all shapes and sizes. My favorite has always been this one kind of flower I still don’t know the name of. It was purple, with dark green stems that lead to the bud. The actual flower part of it looked like a microphone, with bright purple petals surrounding the bottom third of the flower, similar to a ballerina skirt. The top part of it was fuzzy and a more subtle shade of purple. For some reason still unknown, the flowers would always bring a smile to my sweaty face. I never picked the flowers, for fear of ruining their beauty.
It was almost always sunny when I visited Rivoli Lake. If I went around the water a mile or so, I would get a glimpse at the water in action. Burning sunlight illuminated every corner of the park, causing the blue lake to sparkle as it moved. Above me were the clouds, thin wisps of cotton floating in the baby blue sky.
For a few minutes I would watch geese waddle from the sidewalk to the lakeshore. I had laughed quietly as goslings warily tested the water. Satisfied, the younger geese would slip in as their parents squawk at them to hurry up.
But now it rests in ruins. No longer a large lake, water reaches just far enough to form a small pond. The lakeshore became a rough slope, edging down to the lone pond. The grass became ingrained in the ground, leaving the once green park as flat and hard as stone. Sighing in discontent, I head back for the ship.
I grunt as I hoist myself into the spaceship, my slippery spacesuit causing me to stumble as I maneuver. As I wiggle out of my spacesuit, I start to wonder: why is my heart aching so badly? It isn’t heartburn, for I rarely have to deal with health problems. Instead of feeling as if my heart is on fire, it feels like my heart is melting from pain, a pain that is too deep for physical trauma. I stand there, my eyebrows creasing as I get lost in thought.
Shaking my head in exhaustion, I groan. Sometimes you think too much, Sabrina, I scold myself. Tired from the day’s adventures, more mentally than physically, I head to my cabin. Now that I think about it, I never become physically tired, just low on energy. It’s more of a feeling of slowing down rather than soreness. Confused at my observation, I try to shake it off as I struggle with the hallway’s stubborn door. After much wrestling, I manage to thrust open the door and step inside.
I stop. Something had visited my cabin earlier; I could somehow sense their aura trail. Wary of an intruder, I glide over the metal floor, my shoes remaining silent as if holding their breath. My cabin door was open, letting out a faint glow from the desk lamp in my room. As I near my room, I peek around the corner, my heart punching my ribs and my legs trembling. I glance around and let out the air I had subconsciously been holding in.
My cabin is empty, no burglars, no pranksters, no one. But why is my door open? It’s a habit of mine to constantly lock my cabin.
I creep around the room, searching for lost items. Nothing is missing. Everything is in its place. For instance, my photograph is on my nightstand, where it usually is – Wait a minute. Photograph? I don’t own any photographs. Perplexed, I turned the photograph around, expecting to find a picture of the crew. Instead, it’s a picture of a young girl, her wide cerulean eyes glaring at the camera.
A series of images flash in my mind, all of them blurring as they speed past. My brain somehow comprehends it all, taking it all in within a second.
That’s when I remember.
I blew up Earth.
I had slaughtered thousands of people with no drop of guilt in my stone heart.
I am a robot.
My blood is cold, as if turning to ice. I could feel my skin shed, as if coming loose from my bones. I force myself to peek at my hands.
They are solid metal, with several odd joints. As I stare, my mind starts to wheel in a mixture of confusion and realization. I could do inhuman actions that were unexplainable until this moment. I was supernatural. I was more powerful than any creature on this ship.
Those dense morons are so useless, I reflected. Actually, humans in general are useless. Look at what happened to them thousands of years ago. They couldn’t even stop me, a lone female robot with powers beyond their comprehension. I scoff at their foolishness and lack of willpower to stop me all those years ago. One memory in particular comes to mind: it’s of a five-year-old boy, tears pouring down his round face in dread of what’s to come. I see a raising arm with a fantastic weapon on the end, aiming for the kid. The scene flashes from red to white as I shoot the silly child.
My face, once scrunched up in confusion, now becomes unreadable as my thoughts and emotions flood out of my head.
I am a robot. It is my destiny to embrace this darkness, for I have no other purpose. I close my eyes as gears churn and clink inside of me, getting ready to self-destruct. It does not matter if I like the people I murder. I was created to destroy and destroy I must.
TO BE CONTINUED IN SHORT STORY 2!!
